


Sweet Temptations

by lucidscreamer



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baker Yugi, Canon-Typical Violence, Celebrity Yami, Ex-Priest Bakura, Family Drama, Frenemies, Humor, M/M, Nightmares, Past Canon Child Abuse implied/referenced, Prophecy, Romance, Scarification, Sennen Items | Millennium Items, Tombkeeper Yami
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 20:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19259035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidscreamer/pseuds/lucidscreamer
Summary: Atem is an unremarkable member of the Tombkeepers, a secret society who according to prophecy will one day witness the reincarnation of a powerful ancient pharaoh. Unremarkable, that is, until Atem solves the Millennium Puzzle and is forced to join the ranks of the Guardians.Now bonded to the Puzzle, Atem is expected to spend his life in service to the Item, guarding it for the Nameless Pharaoh until his return (or the end of Atem's life, whichever comes first).Instead, Atem runs away from home, changes his name to "Yami", loses the Puzzle -- and gains the love of a lifetime. Now, all he has to do is live long enough to enjoy it. Oh, and get the Puzzle back before whoever is stealing the sacred Items can find it first and take the "power of the pharaoh" for their own.Piece of cake!





	1. Prologue and Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Published: 02-12-11 on FF.net  
> Revision started: 6/15/2019 for AO3
> 
> Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is the creation and property of Kazuki Takahashi. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  
> 
> Potential triggers: This story contains scenes of forced body modification (scarification), some non-explicit violence, and some strong language. Despite how that makes it sound, this is actually a comedy/romance fic, not a dark fic. Promise!
> 
> While I have made minor revisions to fix some plotholes, I have not and do not intend to upgrade the technology to current standards. So, while there may be minor mentions of cell phones or social media, please remember that they were not the ubiquitous things then that they are now. I'm not a big user of either (I don't even own a cell phone), so shoehorning them into the story would be a major headache for me. Just keep in mind that the story takes place in 2011, not 2019 or later.
> 
> For those readers who have seen this on FF.net, please be aware that the chapter count will differ on AO3. Some of the chapters were very short, so I have combined them into longer chapters. This has reduced the chapter count for the story as posted here. All new chapters will be posted exclusively to AO3, as I can't log in to my FF.net account at this time.
> 
> Notes: Mostly using the English dub names (the big exception being "Yami Bakura" who is called Bakheru here, for reasons that will become apparent in the text), placing Domino City somewhere in the US rather than in Japan, and totally replacing the characters' canon backstories with my own. Character descriptions may be slightly altered from the anime designs to make them more realistic.
> 
> ETA: Fixed the typo in the freaking TITLE. *facepalm* I hate my effing keyboard.

Prologue

　

Shadi feared he was dying.

His blood was rushing from the wound high on his chest, soaking his once-white _jalabiya_ and staining it like a mark of sin. And had he not sinned against Pharaoh? For he had failed in his appointed task, failed to protect that which belonged to the Nameless Pharaoh, and now death came for him on swift wings.

He could hear those wings coming closer, even over the frantic fluttering of his heart. The blood pooling beneath him on the stone felt cold, his warmth leaching away into the carved granite upon which he had fallen. His blood oozed into the deep cuts of the hieroglyphs chiseled into the surface of the sacred tablet, painting the words crimson.

Vision fading, he watched the defiler, the _blasphemer_ pluck the Millennium Eye from its place in the tablet and hold it up to the light. Gold glinted in the gray shadows that were nibbling at the corners of Shadi's sight. And then even that bit of light began to shrink, drawing in on itself like a collapsing tomb shaft.

As everything faded to black, he thought he heard the thief's triumphant laughter turn to screams.

　

　

Chapter 1

　

Yugi Mutou groaned as he slid the final tray loaded with red velvet cupcakes into the glass display case at the front of the bakery. Each small cake was topped with fluffy white cream cheese frosting and a single toasted pecan half. He tried not to remember his first attempt at toasting nuts and his discovery that they could go from raw to burnt in the blink of an eye. Rather than straighten immediately, he leaned against the sloping side of the counter and resting his forehead on the Formica countertop next to the cash register. After the heat of the kitchen, the cool surface of the countertop felt like heaven.

He heaved a heartfelt sigh. "I never want to see another cupcake as long as I live."

"Don't say that!" Ryou thumped another long tray onto the counter. The tray held rows of pale yellow lemon chiffon cupcakes, each with a perfect white chocolate curl in the center of their swirl of sunny yellow frosting. He slid the tray in his other hand, this one filled with pastel green tea cupcakes under high hats of raspberry buttercream, into the display case and slid the rear panel closed before repeating the process on the other side of the case with the lemon cupcakes. Then he slumped across the top of the display case next to Yugi and aimed a desultory swat at Yugi's hair -- some of which had escaped from the confines of his health-department-approved paper hat -- along with a look of not entirely mock horror. "That's my livelihood you're maligning, you know."

The two tired young men were coated from head to toe in organic, artisan cake flour. Yugi had a smear of bright red batter across one cheek and cream cheese frosting on the other, like some kind of edible war paint. The flour had turned his two-toned hair as white as his friend's cottony blond coif. Ryou had a dusting of food-grade glitter in his hair and a wide stripe of raspberry pink frosting down the front of his apron. They had been baking since before dawn, and both of them were exhausted.

Yugi tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. He wasn't a morning person at the best of times, and getting up at o'dark-thirty to bake an endless supply cupcakes was not his idea of a fun way to start the day. But Ryou was his friend, and Ryou desperately needed someone to help with the family bakery after his family's accident. With Ryou's mother, older sister, and father all out of commission for the foreseeable future, Ryou had no one else to turn to. How could Yugi possibly say no to his plea for help?

So, for the last two weeks, Yugi had found himself rising before the sun to help Ryou at the bakery, then dashing back across town to take his turn behind the counter at his grandfather's game shop. By evening, he could barely keep his eyes open and he knew it would be all he could do just to stay awake through dinner. He usually tumbled into bed by nine o'clock, almost asleep before his head hit the pillow.

"...Yugi? Are you all right?" Ryou's concerned voice finally penetrated the fog of Yugi's thoughts, and drew him back to the present.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just sleepy." Yugi grinned around another jaw-popping yawn. "That was the last of the cupcakes, right?"

"The full-sized ones, yes." Ryou straightened, stretched, and, with what Yugi considered to be an obscene amount of enthusiasm, announced, "Now we can start on the minis!"

Yugi smacked himself in the forehead, sending up a mushroom cloud of flour. He _hated_ the miniature cupcakes. Oh, like all the products of Sweet Temptations, the Bakura family's bakery, the tiny cupcakes tasted wonderful, but the stupid little things took forever to frost and decorate. "You're a sadistic slave driver, Ryou."

"Yup!" Ryou chirped in the face of Yugi's "deer in oncoming traffic" look before bouncing back into the kitchen. To add insult to injury, Ryou was an unabashed morning person and never showed any pity for the fact that Yugi was barely sentient before noon. Yugi only survived the ordeal through the intake of massive amounts of caffeine. At the moment, he was considering the feasibility of an intravenous delivery system.

Ryou's disgustingly eager voice sang out from the open doorway. "Come along! Those miniature cupcakes aren't going to bake themselves, you know. And, after that, we have the special orders!"

" _Argh_ ," Yugi observed philosophically and, thinking longingly of warm blankets and soft pillows, trudged after Ryou.

　

-o0o-

　

World famous duelist and champion gamer Yami ("Just Yami. Like Cher or Madonna, only with a Y-chromosome and a killer endgame.") was having a Very Bad Day.

It had started when his alarm had not gone off on time. He had been forced to race from his hotel to the airport (without breakfast, in the rain, and only half-awake), only to arrive just in time to find out his flight had been delayed. That plus several hours cooling his heels in a crowded airport had done nothing to improve his already sour mood. It was while finally boarding the plane that Yami had an epiphany: he needed a break. With that in mind, he altered his travel schedule from the press release his publicist had sent out the previous month, so that he would arrive in Domino City one week ahead of his announced itinerary. After a couple of months of intense tournament dueling, he felt ready for a well-deserved break from the game of Duel Monsters.

Oh, he still loved the game, and it paid the bills, but heading into the third leg of a triple-crown tournament series, he found himself on the verge of burning out. He was twenty-four years old and one tournament win away from the prize that would make him a millionaire. Then he could take some much needed time off -- and maybe finally find the elusive _something_ that had been calling to him since he solved the Millennium Puzzle when he was fifteen. It was almost ten years since that day and he felt no closer to finding whatever it was.

He shook thoughts of the Puzzle (and the inevitable thoughts of the family obligations that went along with it) from his head and continued stalking away from the customer service desk of the god-forsaken airline that had just informed him they had lost his luggage. _He_ had arrived safely at Domino International Airport. His luggage, on the other hand, was winging its merry way across the Pacific ...to Honolulu. The airline agent tried to make light of the situation by joking that at least they got the destination _country_ right, if not the state. To say that Yami was not amused by this turn of events would be an understatement of epic proportions, as the unlucky airline employee had found out when Yami's personality setting flipped from _sweetheart_ to _bitch_ in under sixty seconds.

Yami had been assured that the airline would retrieve his suitcases and usher them into their owner's waiting arms as fast as was humanly possible. Yami fumed and wished the foolish folk tales about the Items granting their wielders magical powers were true so he could feed the entire airline to the fabled Shadows. Granted, the Items were not exactly _normal_. No inanimate object should be able to bind itself to a person 'til death did them part. But he had never seen even a hint of the kind of magic the old stories described and the family legends insisted resided within the Items.

As he left the customer service area, Yami sighed and banished his musings to the imaginary Shadows. He didn't care that much about the loss of his clothes or even his laptop; they were all replaceable. But he had foolishly packed the Millennium Puzzle in his suitcase rather than in his carry-on bag. And while he had absolutely no desire to return to Egypt and take up the yoke of family responsibility that came with the damned Puzzle, neither did he like the idea of the stupid thing going on a separate vacation while its bonded Guardian cooled his heels half a world away.

Sometimes, he mused as he shouldered his way through the crowd with only his carry-on bag and a bad temper to show for several hours of waiting in line, life _really_ sucked.

Then he hit the main concourse and found out that life sucked even harder than he had ever thought possible.

　

-o0o-

　

Yugi stuck around to help Ryou through the worst of the lunch crowd that mobbed the bakery right on schedule, and then shucked out of his apron and paper hat to bolt across town to the Kame Game Shop. A hasty shower and a change into non-flour-coated clothes in the apartment above the shop, and Yugi hurried back downstairs to take over the afternoon shift behind the counter from his grandfather.

Solomon Mutou smiled at him as Yugi skidded through the door and slid into place behind the long sales counter that dominated one wall of the shop. "Ah, there you are! I was beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost on your way home."

"Sorry, Grandpa. The bakery was _really_ busy today." Yugi climbed onto the empty stool beside his grandfather and tried not to look as tired as he felt. "I never imagined so many cupcake-crazed people lived in Domino City."

Solomon chortled. "At least business is good for Ryou. That boy could certainly use some good fortune right about now."

Yugi nodded. Ryou's family were all recovering from a freeway encounter with a truckload of rogue soccer balls. The soccer balls (apparently unsatisfied with their lot in life and unwilling to be kicked around anymore) had made a determined bid to end their bondage in the middle of Domino Bay Bridge, causing a twelve car pile-up as the spherical escapees bounced toward the inviting waters of the channel and freedom. In the resulting collision, Ryou's mother suffered a mild concussion, a broken arm, and a broken ankle. His sister fared little better, with a broken nose and two broken legs. His father, who was driving, was the worst off and had just come out of a week-long coma. Mother and sister were both home from the hospital, but neither of the Bakura women would be in any shape to return to the bakery for some time to come, and no one knew how long Mr. Bakura's hospital stay would be.

The Bakuras couldn't afford to close the bakery until Angela and Amane could resume work. Nor could they afford to hire the needed replacements. In addition to the hospital bills and continuing expenses such as pain medications, special medical equipment, and follow up doctor's visits, they had to have a home care assistant visit during the day so that Ryou could operate the bakery. Later, there would be the added expense of physical therapy, not only for the women, but for Bakura Sr., as well.

"The bakery's doing great." Yugi shook off his gloomy thoughts and turned to straightening the foil booster packs of Duel Monsters cards on the counter. "And Ryou said his mom and sister are feeling better. They were able to visit his dad at the hospital yesterday."

"I'm glad to hear it." Solomon eyed Yugi thoughtfully, and then swiveled on his stool so that he could see the clock on the wall behind them. "Have you had lunch?"

"Um." Yugi's stomach betrayed him with a loud and rather obnoxious gurgle. He flushed. "Not really."

"That's what I thought." Solomon heaved a sigh as he hopped down from his seat. At four feet ten inches, he was even shorter than his grandson, despite the spiky hairstyle they both shared. Of course, the elder Mutou habitually wore a bandana that covered most of his gray mane, so the similarity was not immediately obvious. He reached up and ruffled Yugi's red and gold crown of hair. "I'll fix you up a couple of hamburgers while you watch the shop."

"Thanks, Grandpa. You're the best."

"You've got to start taking better care of yourself, m'boy. After all, I wouldn't want my favorite grandson to get sick."

"I'm your _only_ grandson, Grandpa."

"That's why you're my favorite!" Solomon called as he disappeared up the short flight of stairs at the back of the shop.

Yugi shook his head fondly and went to straighten the magazine rack.

　

-o0o-

　

When Yami found out who had leaked his altered itinerary to the press, he'd… Well, he didn't know what he'd do, but it wouldn't be pleasant. If the airline had recovered his missing luggage by then, he might see if those family legends about the Puzzle held even a grain of truth. If so, the blabbermouth could join Quality (ha!) Airlines in the Lake of Fire. Or maybe he'd feed them to his fangirls, though even _that_ seemed like less torment than the bastards deserved. Maybe he'd just send them the bill for all the therapy he was sure he was going to need to deal with this day, which got better with each passing moment -- if by _better_ he meant "so bad it made him want to find a tiny cave on a remote mountain top somewhere and renounce further contact with humanity for the remainder of his life (or longer)."

Yami had barely escaped from the airport with his temper intact. His clothing had not been so fortunate.

The local press had shown up to shove cameras and microphones in his face, and shout variations on the same softball questions they always lobbed at him. He wished they would either leave him alone or come up with something new to ask him. After all, how did they think he felt about the upcoming tournament? After two years in the dueling world, one competition blended into the next, at least for a duelist at his level. False modesty aside, he was not exactly quaking in his boots at the thought of facing Weevil Underwood or Mako Tsunami across a dueling arena. It was a _card game_ , not loaded pistols at dawn.

The reporters were bad enough, but the thing that made him determined to find whoever had betrayed his confidence and hang them out to dry (preferably by their most sensitive and/or favorite body part) was the mob of excited fans waiting for him after he had run the paparazzi gauntlet.

Now, Yami was neither stupid nor an ingrate. He knew perfectly well that he owed his lucrative endorsement contracts to his continuing fan appeal, and he was happy to sign a few autographs or shake a few hands. But he drew the line at getting his clothes ripped right off his body by fan-girls and -boys determined to snag a literal piece of _him_ as a souvenir. He shivered a bit and clutched the remnants of his now-sleeveless black shirt across his chest. When he had put it on (was it really only this morning?) the knit jersey had possessed sleeves long enough to cover the backs of his hands. Now it was a ragged scrap of cloth that barely covered his torso.

Walking past him, a woman glanced at him once, then again. On the second pass, her gaze locked somewhere in the vicinity of his navel and she licked her glossy, red-painted lips. He glanced down and felt his face flush. Correction: make that a ragged scrap of cloth that barely covered his _upper_ torso. Not only was his shirt now a sleeveless model, it also exposed his midriff to the curious stares of passers-by. And he couldn't even duck into a restroom and change, since his entire wardrobe, other than the inadequate clothes on his back, was currently on its way to the Aloha State.

Yami clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to punch something. There was no way in _hell_ this day could get any worse.

　

-o0o-

　

 _Somewhere, the Universe snickered evilly to itself over the knowledge that a foolish mortal had just challenged the Power of Worse_.

　

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: The phrase "The Power of Worse" comes from a Gundam Wing fanfic that I remember reading back in the early 2000s. I'm pretty sure it was a popular fic back in the day, and I know it was Duo-centric. If it rings any bells for anyone, lmk and I'll update this note with credit for the author. (Nothing else about this fic resembles that story, but I don't want to take credit for coining the phrase. I mean, I could've just used Murphy's Law, but this turn of phrase is just so evocative...) 
> 
> This was my NaNoWriMo novel for... 200? (I'll have to check the exact year) and was the year I decided to just have fun pantsing the hell out of a story. Hence the craziness of the plot. I literally had no idea what I was going to write beyond "Ryou and Yugi are bakers for some reason." :D


	2. Chapter 2

　

When he found a taxi right away upon exiting the terminal, Yami dared to hope his luck might be improving. He tossed his carry-on bag into the back seat of the cab and slid in behind it. Just in time, too, as the leaden clouds above the city broke, dumping what looked like an ocean's worth of water on Domino. With the deluge, the temperature dropped significantly enough that Yami shivered and tried unsuccessfully to rearrange his ripped shirt so it covered more of his exposed flesh. He spared a longing thought for his missing luggage, which held a warm fleece pullover, and added "incipient pneumonia" to the list of things for which he was going to sue Quality (seriously, who did they think they were fooling with that name?) Airlines when all this was over.

"Where to, buddy?"

Startled, Yami glanced up at the taxi driver. He had been so deep in his own dark thoughts that he had almost forgotten the guy was there. Yami stopped fiddling with his shirt (there just wasn't enough left to do much with) and gave the driver the name of the hotel where he had reservations for the next two weeks.

No sooner had the cab begun to move than Yami's cell phone warbled at him. He dug it out of his bag and was not surprised when the caller barked at him without preamble, "You're late!"

"I'm fine, Kaiba. Thanks for asking. How are you?" Yami said with delicated sarcasm. He settled in his seat, the cracked vinyl cold against the exposed skin of his lower back, and gazed out the window at the passing scenery. There wasn't a lot to distinguish it from the last town he'd been in or the one before that. Tournament locations had begun to blur in his memory into a single, unattractive mental image labeled "city." He needed a vacation from all the travel, all the tournaments.

Rather than responding to his dig, Kaiba gave an impatient snort. "Where the hell are you?"

"Just leaving the airport. My flight was delayed. I haven't even made it to my hotel."

"Forget the hotel and come straight to my office. I want these contracts signed before the close of business today."

"Seto, I really think I ought to--"

"I don't pay you to _think_! You have fifteen minutes to get here or the deal is off."

The phone went dead. Yami glared at it for a minute, wishing he could transmit his ire via relay tower, and then shoved the phone back into his bag. While he didn't actually believe Seto was serious, Yami knew it would be more trouble than it was worth to push him on it. He looked up to find the driver watching him in the rear view mirror. "I need to get to Kaiba Corporation Headquarters in less than fifteen minutes. I tip well."

"You got it!" The car swung into an illegal u-turn and headed back the way they had come. For a moment, the only sounds were the swish of the windshield wipers, the tapping of rain on the roof, and the growl of the taxi's engine. The driver glanced at him again, brown eyes peering out from beneath shaggy blond bangs. "Soooo... How do you know Seto Kaiba?"

Yami did not bother to hide his surprise. "We're business associates. _You_ know him?"

"We went to high school together -- for about a week and a half. We weren't buddies or nothin'." The guy grinned at him in the mirror. "Insultin' each other in the hallways on a more or less daily basis for under two weeks ain't exactly the foundation for a lasting friendship."

"Oh, I don't know." Yami hid his own grin at the thought that the cab driver had rather neatly summed up Yami and Seto's relationship. The two of them weren't exactly _friends_. They were more like non-lethal rivals or friendly enemies. _Frenemies_ , maybe. Whatever you called two people who would rather snipe at each other than carry on a civil conversation, but still enjoyed each other's company (although they would never admit it to anyone, least of all each other). Seto's step-mother (who insisted upon Yami calling her Aunt Stella) thought they were both hilarious and adorable.

The taxi pulled up in front of the impressively ugly Kaiba Corporation office tower with five minutes to spare. Yami paid his fare, throwing in the promised generous tip which had the cabbie grinning at him through the wire cage separating them. Yami climbed out of the car and raced inside the lobby to avoid getting even more soaked by the rain.

The security guard on duty gave him a dubious look. Yami straightened the remains of his shirt, squared his shoulders, and strode to the reception desk. "I have an appointment with Seto Kaiba."

The receptionist looked as skeptical as the security guard did. Her gaze roved over his exposed collarbone and down to his equally exposed abdomen before retreating back to his face. She raised one perfectly-plucked eyebrow. "...Is that right?"

Yami willed himself not to blush, and lifted his chin just enough so that he was looking down his nose at her. "Yes. My name is Yami."

This time both her eyebrows rose, but her cool expression evaporated as recognition lit her eyes. "Oh! Of course, sir. He's expecting you. Go right up! I'll tell Mr. Kaiba you're here."

"Thank you."

With a smirk at the guard, Yami stalked toward the bank of elevators on the other side of the lobby, feeling curious eyes on him every step of the way. He had to fight the urge to reach around and tug at the ragged edge of his shirt when it occurred to him that his back was every bit as exposed as his front. His stomach muscles twitched at the thought, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Straightening his shoulders, he reminded himself that no one who saw the designs covering his back would guess at their true meaning. Most people would assume that he had gotten the elaborate... _tattoos_... for aesthetic reasons, not that they had been forced upon him in accordance with the backward beliefs of his family.

He shook off the unpleasant memories and turned his mind to the matter at hand. Kaiba Corporation. Contracts. He had beaten Seto in their last tournament match-up and Seto, ever the savvy businessman, wanted to snap up Yami's endorsements for his latest product, a portable dueling system called the Duel Disk Mark II.

Before his defeat, Seto had been the reigning Duel Monsters world champion and spokesman for his company's gaming products. With Yami not only the current holder of Seto's former title, but well on his way to garnering the title "King of Games" in the last leg of the world tournament sponsored by rival company Industrial Illusions, Seto had made certain Yami knew Kaiba Corporation wanted him. Not that Seto was going to be pleasant about it. That was one of the first things Yami had learned about dealing with the Kaiba Corp CEO: Seto Kaiba was many things, but "pleasant" was not one of them. Oddly enough, it had not stopped them from developing a sort of snarky camaraderie outside the dueling arena. Yami blamed Aunt Stella for at least part of that; she had practically tried to adopt him after finding out some of his history with his own family.

Yami stepped off the elevator on the executive level and nodded to the young man seated behind the desk outside Kaiba's office. The executive assistant, the guardian at the portal, glanced up at Yami from the computer in front of him on the desk. Then the executive assistant's eyes went wide as he took in Yami's torn, and consequently rather skimpy, attire. Yami swallowed a sigh and resisted the urge to either roll his eyes or cross his arms protectively over his bare stomach. Instead, he summoned up his most haughty stance and faced down the guardian of the portal with all the bravado he could muster.

"Tell Seto I'm here. He's expecting me."

Without taking his eyes off Yami, the executive assistant fumbled for the intercom, flipping over his pencil caddy and scattering pencils and pens in all directions before his hand located the appropriate spot on his desk. "Uh, Mr. Kaiba? T-there's a... person... here to s-see you."

"It's about damn time! Send him in."

A helpless frown twisting his mouth, the executive assistant simply stared at Yami. Yami smirked back at him.

"Well?" Seto's growl came through loud and clear over the still-active intercom. "What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Get in here, Yami!"

With a wink for the stunned assistant, Yami strode past the man's desk and through the massive double-doors into Seto's office.

Seated before the impressive floor to ceiling windows that formed one wall of the office, Seto looked up from his work to glare through his stylishly-too-long bangs at Yami as he sauntered into the room. "Took you long enough. What were you doing, sightseeing?"

"I told you, my flight was delayed." Without waiting for an invitation (and not giving a damn that his clothes were still damp from the rain), Yami sank down onto the black leather sofa and allowed his shoulders to slump just a bit. Damn, he was tired. "Can we hurry up and get this over with? I have to go shopping for--"

"You think a trip to the mall is more important than your contract with Kaiba Corporation?" Seto interrupted him, icy blue eyes narrowing. Then he got a good look at Yami, and they flew wide again. "What the hell are you _wearing_?"

Yami gave in to impulse and buried his face in one hand for a second. Straightening, he raked his fingers through his bangs, and then glared at Seto, who was glowering at him as if Yami had donned the torn and tattered top purely to offend him. To be fair, Yami occasionally did do outrageous things just to annoy Kaiba, but humiliating himself wasn't one of them.

"It was a perfectly acceptable shirt when I left Toronto. It's not my fault that someone informed my fans that I would be arriving in Domino City ahead of the announced tournament schedule." Yami glanced down at his ragged shirt and shook his head. "I'm lucky they only managed to tear off most of my shirt. I think some of them were going for skin."

Seto looked as if he might say something, but changed his mind. His jaw worked for a moment, his mouth twitched, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Yami's own eyes narrowed. Oh, _hell_ no.

He pointed a finger in warning. "Laugh at me and die, Kaiba."

The CEO made a muffled noise through clenched teeth. It sounded suspiciously like a suppressed snicker. Yami leaped to his feet in an instant, one arm thrust out to stab a threatening finger at the other man. "I mean it! So much as crack a smile and I'm out of here. I'll drop Kaiba Corp so hard they'll feel the impact in Tokyo, and go straight to Industrial Illusions. Pegasus has been practically begging me to become the official spokesman for _his_ company and, frankly--"

Even though they both knew Yami was bluffing (he'd never do anything to upset Stella Kaiba, no matter how mad Seto made him), Seto caved. Holding up both hands in the universal _I surrender_ gesture, he rearranged his expression into something marginally less incriminating. "Fans, you say? Well, at least that means your popularity hasn't fallen off since the last tournament. Although, I suppose that means you'll want to up your already ridiculously inflated endorsement deal."

Yami snorted. "I know better than to renegotiate anything, including lunch, with you without a full contingent of lawyers present."

"Ah, I see I've taught you too well, young Padawan." That icy blue gaze raked over Yami again. "Maybe our next lesson should involve proper business attire."

Folding his arms over his chest and lowering his chin, Yami glowered at Seto through his bangs. "I _told_ you I needed to go shopping. I can't walk around looking like _this_ \--" He spread his arms to better display his torn clothing. "--all damn day!"

"Why didn't you just change clothes before coming here?"

"Because I don't _have_ any clothes to change into _,_ thanks to the fucking _airline_ that not only can't run their planes on fucking _schedule_ but also sent my fucking _luggage_ on an unplanned fucking holiday flight to fucking _Honolulu_!"

Seto's mouth twitched again, more obviously this time. He flattened his lips together, holding back a very visible guffaw. "Don't let Mom hear you talking like that or she'll wash your mouth out with soap."

Yami deflated onto the couch and buried his head in both of his hands. "...I hate you."

"Ditto. Now stop pouting and come sign these contracts before I come to my senses and hire a duelist with better fashion sense and a normal name to go on the contracts."

"Oh, like Aunt Stella would let you."

"Bite me."

Giving in to impulse, Yami stuck his tongue out at Kaiba. And then signed the contract.

-o0o-

Yugi caught himself just before he face-planted into his second hamburger. He jerked upright in his seat and resumed chewing, shooting a quick peek at his grandfather to see if the older man had noticed Yugi's flagging energy.

He had. Solomon grinned and shook his head as he shooed Yugi away from the counter. "Go take a nap before you pass out in your food and get a french fry jammed up your nose. Again."

"That only happened once, Grandpa," Yugi protested halfheartedly around a yawn. "And what about my shift?"

Solomon scoffed. "We aren't exactly swamped with customers this afternoon. Go on. I know you haven't been sleeping well. Maybe you should tell Ryou you have to take a few days off? I don't want you running yourself into the ground, even to help out a friend."

"Ryou needs me, Grandpa." Already sliding from his stool and using one hand on the countertop to keep himself from tipping over, Yugi blinked in slow motion. His eyelids felt as if they were made of lead. "You're right, though. I _could_ use a nap. Thanks. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"Take as long as you need. I'll hold down the fort." Solomon gave him a gentle shove toward the door at the back of the store. "Now, go lie down before you fall down and I have to try to carry you upstairs. Take pity on an old man's back, Yugi. You aren't five anymore, you know."

"I'm going, I'm going!" Grinning, Yugi shuffled toward the door that led up into the family apartment. Around a yawn, he added, "G'night, Grandpa."

"It's still daylight, boy."

Yugi glanced back and did the "slow blink" thing again. His brain seemed filled with fog, making it hard to figure out what his grandpa was talking about. "Huh?"

Chuckling, Solomon shook his head and, in a kind voice, said, "Never mind, Yugi. Sleep well."

"'kay."

Once upstairs, Yugi pulled back the covers on his twin-sized bed and crawled between the warm flannel sheets. He was so tired that not even the dread of his nightmares could keep him awake any longer. He was sound asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

-o0o-

Seto loaned Yami the use of a car and driver to take him to his hotel. Unfortunately, Seto did not offer him an intact shirt and Yami was too proud to ask. He thought about making a quick stop at a men's clothing store along the way, but the rain that continued to pour down made the idea of running around without either a decent shirt or an umbrella a daunting and unpleasant prospect. Deciding that he would buy some new clothes and the few other things he would need after checking into the hotel, he thanked the driver and stalked into the lobby...

...Where he found that they had made his reservations for the _following_ week, rather than this one. Which meant he did not have a room to sleep in. And with hotels filling up from both the upcoming Duel Monsters tournament and an anime convention taking place that weekend, finding a room anywhere in downtown Domino City was going to be next to impossible.

The hotel manager apologized profusely for the error and promised to call around to see if she could make alternate arrangements. Yami, shivering slightly in his torn-off tee and beginning to feel the effects of the worst day he had had in a very long time (in fact, quite possibly the worst day he'd had since leaving his family's home in Egypt), clenched his jaw and sternly reminded himself that the manager was just doing her job. While shouting at her might make him feel better (until the guilt set in), it wouldn't actually accomplish anything. He grudgingly thanked her for her help and ducked into the small, upscale bar tucked into a corner of the lobby for a fortifying drink before venturing out again into the cold rain.

When he climbed into the taxi the doorman had summoned for him, he was startled by the driver's exuberant greeting. "Hey! I wasn't expectin' to see you again so soon. Your meeting with Mr. Moneybags go all right?"

Shoving his rain-dampened bangs out of his eyes, Yami shot a surprised look at the cabbie. It took him a moment to realize that this was the same young man who had driven him from the airport to the Kaiba Corporation offices earlier. "Oh. Hello."

"Yeah, hi. How ya doin'?" The blond driver squinted at his reflection in the rear view mirror. "Man, you're lookin' a little worse for wear, if ya don't mind me sayin'. You kinda look like you're having a craptastic day."

"Like you wouldn't believe." Yami slumped against the back of his seat, the shock of cold vinyl against his bare lower back reminding him of the reason for his errand. "Can you take me to a men's clothing store? Or maybe a department store would be better. I have to get a few things for tonight... assuming the hotel manager actually finds me a place to stay and I don't end up sleeping in a cardboard box in an alley somewhere." The way his luck was going, he wouldn't even be able to _find_ an empty cardboard box. Or a vacant alley.

The cabbie gave him a knowing look. "Let me guess. Airline lost your luggage and the hotel screwed up your reservations."

"Give the man a cigar."

"Of course, that don't explain why your shirt looks like you got caught in a wood-chipper, but I figure I'm probably better off not askin'." The slight smile warming his eyes took any sting out of the words. "So. You need someplace where you can get in and out fast, and then a room for the night. Right?"

"Yes. _Please_."

The cab driver grinned. "No problem."

Famous last words.

-o0o-

Yugi rested fitfully on his bed. Beneath closed lids, his eyes moved with the staccato motions of REM sleep. His body was paralyzed, unable to flee the torment he sensed approaching. He panted, a thin whine leaking from his throat, but there was no escaping the nightmare.

_He strained his eyes against the darkness and listened to the man's footsteps come ever closer to where he lay, restrained and helpless. Hard, calloused hands gripped his limbs, and he screamed as the first red-hot knife pierced the tender skin on his back..._

　

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some additions not found in the original version on FF.net turn up this chapter.
> 
> All businesses referenced are fictional and any resemblence to actual businesses is purely coincidental.
> 
> There's a very brief mention of the scarification ritual near the start of this chapter.

The first thing Yami did upon entering the department store was to seek out the men's clothing section and purchase an intact, long-sleeved pullover. He paid for the shirt, had the sales clerk remove the tags, then ducked into a changing room.

Turning as he pulled the ruined shirt over his head, he caught a glimpse of his back in the full-length mirror on the cubicle wall. The sight of the intricate design -- a winged sun disk across his shoulders, columns of hieroglyphic writing along both sides of his spine, bordered by papyrus stalks perched on rope-ring _shen_ glyphs (symbolizing eternal protection), guarding the spell written on his lower back -- made him shiver.

It was not a tattoo. The markings had been carved into his back with heated knives, and then dark ink and ashes had been scrubbed into the wounds to make the scars stand out more once they healed. He could still remember his uncles holding him down on the ritual stone, a cloth-wrapped stick shoved into his mouth to stifle his cries, as he strained against their grasp. He could feel their fingers biting into his limbs until his bones ground together, hear his muffled screams as the hot metal blade sliced into the tender flesh of his back. The blood from each new cut burned like acid as it washed over the previous wounds, hot red streamers pouring from his back to pool beneath him so that he thought he would choke on the smell of copper and heated metal, and the stench of his own burning flesh.

It was his fourteenth birthday.

The ritual had marked his coming of age as it had marked his back, marked him as the future leader of his family and all who followed them. It had also marked the day he began plotting in earnest to run away from home, to escape the stifling chains of responsibility that manacled him to the hidden city of the Tombkeepers.

A year later, he had solved the Millennium Puzzle and inextricably bound himself to it, and to the underground city, as a Guardian of the Prophecy. That was also when the dreams began, and with them the growing conviction that there was something waiting for him _out there_ , somewhere far beyond the limited confines of their desert enclave. He knew, then, that he had to get away -- from his family and from Egypt. To stay would mean his slow death, stifled beneath the weight of centuries of tradition and stagnation, and the expectations of his community.

All of which, by a series of fortuitous events and near-catastrophes, had eventually led him to Domino City.

On his way out of the dressing room, Yami tossed the ripped t-shirt into a trash bin and smoothed the new shirt firmly into place, finally able to relax now that the scars on his back were covered.

With one worry out of the way, he made moved quickly through the clothing racks, grabbing a few essentials like socks and underwear, and a couple of changes of clothes. He would shop for more later if it became necessary, but for now he was hanging onto the hope that the stupid "wouldn't know what 'quality' meant if it bit them" airline would actually recover his luggage. If they got it back to him before separation from the Puzzle plunged him into a coma, all the better. If not... Well, then he really wouldn't care about his wardrobe, would he?

On his way past a display rack, he snagged an umbrella in case the rain hadn't let up by the time he had finished his shopping. Another thought struck him and he made a detour through the accessories aisle to pick up a few more items, including a pair of wrap-around sunglasses, a felt hat large enough to sock down over his hair, and a bandanna that could be tied around said hair to help further disguise it. (When he was dueling, or performing his role as a spokesperson for his various employers, he wanted to be recognized. The rest of the time? Not so much.)

Still moving as quickly as he could, since he really wanted to get out of the store before someone spotted him, he shifted departments so that he could pick up disposable razors, assorted toiletries, and a shampoo especially formulated for color-treated hair. His current dye job (brighter red than his natural auburn on the majority of his hair and sunny gold on the bangs and some of the sections he gelled up into spikes) should be good for at least another month provided he didn't use any harsh detergents on it.

His hair called attention to him, but it had also gotten him his first endorsement deal, right after he had won his second major tournament in a row and people started taking notice of the newcomer from nowhere. The checks from his deal with Hot Tropix Hair Care had allowed him to concentrate on improving his dueling skills rather than wondering where his next meal was coming from. Before the endorsement deal, he had made a little money doing odd jobs to support himself between tournaments, but the income was not regular.

Back in those early days after his escape from Egypt, he had to keep moving around to prevent his family from tracking him down. Now, he was well enough known that any sudden disappearance would be news. He did not think his family would risk exposure by trying to kidnap him and drag him back home. Besides, they had to know that he would simply flee again. It had taken him three tries before he made a clean getaway the first time. He wouldn't simply give up and become what they wanted him to be now, not after having such a heady taste of freedom.

He made it all the way to the check-out lane before someone recognized him. He saw the girl, standing in line in the next lane over, glance at him. Saw the double-take a second later. Saw her lean over and whisper something frantically into her friend's ear, all the while waving a not very subtle hand in his direction. Saw the t-shirt her friend was wearing -- the one with his face on it.

Yami's heart sank. Keeping one eye on the girls, who were still carrying on a whispered conversation (or possibly _argument_ , judging by the increasingly dramatic gestures, furrowed brows, and the rising volume of their "whispering"), he smiled his most charming smile at the cashier, an older woman with worn features and cynical blue eyes.

"I think I'm about to have to make a run for it, but I promise I'm not abandoning my purchases. If you could finish ringing them up and then hold them here for a few minutes, I will send someone right back in to pay for them and pick them up. Here..." He placed a fifty on the counter between them. "A down payment."

"Sir, I really don't think I can--"

"I'm telling you it _is_ him!" the first girl shrieked, stabbing a finger through the air in his direction. "It's that gamer guy you like -- Yami!"

All heads in the immediate vicinity swiveled to get a look at the 'gamer guy'. Yami felt all the blood drain from his face. _Oh, shit_. He shoved the money at the cashier. "Honestly, someone will be right in. Gotta run!"

Without waiting for a reply, he bolted for the exit. His sudden flight startled the fangirls long enough to give him a head-start and he hit the glass doors at a full run. He didn't slow down once he reached the parking lot, but sprinted along the concrete walk in front of the department store, his desperate gaze searching the crowded lot for the cab his driver had promised would be waiting. A glimpse of the bright red-and-black check of Domino City Cab's livery caught his eye and he aimed in that direction. Sure enough, it was his cab. He flung open the rear door and dove inside, flattening himself across the seat and wondering if he could curl up small enough to hide in the well between the rear bench and the front seat of the cab.

"Uh, you okay back there, man?" The cabbie craned his neck to peer down at him through the mesh barrier.

"Fangirls," Yami gasped out, still trying to catch his breath from his run. "I don't suppose you have a blanket or a coat that I could hide under?"

The cabbie just stared at him for a long moment. Then he laughed, with what sounded like a mixture of disbelief and delight. "You a celebrity or somethin'?"

"Or something." Yami crouched low, then risked a quick peek out the window. If the girls had followed him, they apparently hadn't seen him duck into the cab. "Look, I need you to go back into the store and pay for my stuff. I had to abandon it on the check-out counter."

"Dude. Are you serious? You really got fans that, like, chase you around and stuff?"

" _Yes_."

"Awesome!"

"Not really." Yami closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep, steadying breath, and reminded himself that yelling at someone is never the best way to get them to do you a favor. "Please. Just take the money I'll give you, go in and pay for my purchases, and then get me the hell out of here. Okay? I will tip you very, _very_ well."

"Can't argue with that, and you really did give me a good tip last time. So..." He opened the slot in the barrier and stuck his hand through, wiggling his fingers. "Fork over the moolah and I'll go get your stuff for ya."

"Thank you." Yami passed the driver a handful of large bills, told him which check-out lane he had used, and then ducked back down out of sight as the driver climbed out of the cab. Surprisingly enough, he actually _could_ fit in the cramped floor well between the seats.

Yami heard the trunk open. What was the guy doing? They couldn't hang around here much longer and still hope no one would spot him, even if he _was_ hiding in the floor of the cab. Then the door opposite him opened a crack and the driver tossed a musty-smelling, army surplus blanket over him.

"There ya go. Keep outta sight for a couple a minutes, okay? I'll be right back." He slammed the door shut. Yami could hear the cabbie whistling a jaunty tune as he sauntered toward the store.

With no other option, Yami huddled under the scratchy wool and thought longingly of obscurity.

-o0o-

The cabbie was snickering when he returned to the car, his arms full of Yami's packages. He shoved them in the back seat along with Yami, who had gotten a leg cramp and been forced out of his hiding spot in the foot well, then climbed into the front and started the engine. "All right. Where to now, buddy?"

"Head back toward the hotel. I'll give them a call and see if the manager has found me a room." Yami dug out his cell phone and dialed the Excellence Suites. The manager was apologetic, but informed him that none of their rooms had opened up. They had, however, located a cancellation in another hotel, if he was interested. Of course, he was interested! He was about ready to fall asleep on his feet, as the day he was having had not only started too early and lasted too long, but seemed to be actively sucking the will to live right out of him.

Resisting the urge to shout all of that into the phone, Yami said, " _Yes_ , I'm interested. Where is it?"

The manager gave him the name of the hotel and then hung up with suspicious alacrity. Yami gave the phone a fish-eyed stare.

"They find a room for ya?" asked the cabbie, who had been casting glances at him in the rear view mirror every few seconds. Yami wished he would stop doing that and just watch the road. The last thing he needed to cap off his horrible, no good, very bad day was to be involved in an automobile accident.

"Yes. At the Palazzo."

The cabbie's brown eyes went wide. "Oh."

Yami's eyes narrowed. "Something wrong with the Palazzo?"

"Noooo..." The cabbie shrugged. "I mean, it's a good hotel -- clean rooms, good service. My sister works there. No, the problem is, uh, that's where the anime convention is being held this weekend. And, y'know, it's Friday, so there are a lot of con-goers there already..."

Yami was going to sue that hotel -- from the malignant manager all the way up to the president of the chain -- for emotional damages. Right after he got out of therapy for the mental anguish the airline had inflicted on him. Yami massaged his aching forehead, and then peered around his hand at the cabby's reflection in the rear view mirror. "Can you just, uh, drive around for a few minutes while I try to find another hotel?"

"Yeah, sure." The cab driver gave him a sympathetic look. "No problem."

Fifteen frustrated minutes later, Yami was forced to admit defeat. There really _were_ no other available hotel rooms anywhere in Domino City. _Dammit_. Conceding the battle, he slumped back into the seat and ordered the cabbie to take him to the Palazzo.

The Palazzo turned out to be almost directly across from the Excellence Suites. There were costumed people wandering into the lobby from the street outside, and Yami could just imagine what the inside of the hotel would look (and sound) like. On the bright side, people were far less likely to notice him or, if they _did_ notice him, far more likely to assume he was merely another fan dressed like his favorite duelist.

Just to be on the safe side, however, he dug out the bandana and dark glasses, putting on the sunglasses and tying the bandana over his hair before starting to get out of the cab. He checked outside through the window before opening the door -- and froze. He thought he recognized the two men walking into the hotel across the street. A closer look proved that -- despite the fact that they were both dressed in Western-style clothing and that one of them, the shorter of the pair, had dyed his wild mop of hair golden blond -- they were indeed who he had thought they were.

"Oh, _shit_."

"More fangirls?"

"Worse." Yami grabbed his new hat and crammed it down on top of his head over the bandana. " _My brothers._ "

-o0o-

Yami made it into the Palazzo without incident. He had waited in the taxi, watching the Excellence Suites front entrance like a hawk until he was certain his brothers were not going to reappear without warning, and then dashed into the lobby of his own hotel. Check-in went smoothly and soon he had tossed the shopping bags containing his purchases onto the overstuffed sofa and collapsed, flat on his back with his arms and legs splayed out in every direction, onto the queen-sized bed where he stared up at the white swirls in the ceiling plaster and pondered what he had seen.

What the hell were Malik and Rishid doing in Domino City?

His brothers had gone into the hotel where he had been supposed to have reservations -- where, if the hotel had not screwed up, he would have been staying. Coincidence? Or were they looking for him?

He could not imagine anything else that could have brought his brothers to Domino City. They had to be hunting him. He had successfully eluded the family's minions for almost six years. A part of him had begun to hope that they had given up and would finally let him live his life as he saw fit without their interference. He supposed he should have known better. Tradition dictated that the oldest son of the village headman became the new leader upon that man's death or infirmity. Rishid was technically the oldest of the brothers, but he was adopted and tradition demanded the heir must be the son of the headman's body. That meant Yami.

For some reason, Malik had always resented that Yami was the heir, even going so far as to demand the ritual scarification for himself and throwing a tantrum when he was denied. Only Rishid's intervention had prevented Malik from physically attacking their father that day. And ever since, there had been a tension between them that hadn't been there before. Yami might have been the heir, but Malik had been the favored child, the favorite of their mother who doted on him and spoiled him by catering to his every whim. No wonder he had reacted so poorly to being told he couldn't carry the Mark of the Prophecy on his own back. Yami had tried to tell him how awful the ritual truly was, how much it had hurt (he had been in pain for weeks afterward), how much Yami hadn't wanted it. But of course his younger brother hadn't listened. The rift between them had only grown wider when Yami became bonded to the Puzzle, as Malik had never been chosen by any of the Items. Of course, that could have changed in the years Yami had been gone. Perhaps Malik had matured enough that one of the Items had chosen him to be its bearer. Or perhaps Malik was finding his own rebellious spirit if that hair was anything to go by.

Yami breathed out a heavy sigh that tried to become a derisive laugh. Maybe Malik had decided to follow in his big brother's footsteps. These days, everything Yami did was an act of rebellion, no matter how small. Even his stage name rebelled against tradition. The word _yami_ was Japanese, chosen on a whim, something he had heard in an animated cartoon on television. He hadn't even known what it meant at the time; he had simply liked the sound of it. That and the fact that it was nothing like the names he had been given by his family.

His private name, the one used on the official genealogical records the family kept for its own use and in the family histories, was never spoken. His public name within the family, and not for use outside the hidden underground complex where they had resided for millennia, was Atem. Unlike most of the people in their hidden community, who had three names -- a private name, family name, and a name for use in the outside world -- Yami had only two names. He had never actually needed an "outside name" because, until he had run away, he had never been allowed beyond the walls of the aboveground village that supported their secret city.

Even that limited exposure had been carefully controlled by his father, who never let Yami venture out unguarded. Until he had run away, Yami had never been both aboveground and alone. His first night away from his underground home had been quite a shock to the sheltered teenager. But once free of the strictly regulated environment tradition had locked him into, Yami had discovered that the outside world was filled with wonders and terrors, riches and deprivation. He would exchange none of it for his destined title of Lord Guardian of the Puzzle.

Now, he just had to figure out how to make certain his brothers didn't find a way to take him back to the very thing he had run away from and then spent the last six years avoiding. Mind working overtime, it was a very long time before Yami fell into an exhausted sleep.

Unfortunately, he wasn't tired enough to avoid his dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This combines the original chapter 4 and 5 (both of which were very short) that were published on FFnet.
> 
> This chapter has been revised and some new material has been added since its original publication.
> 
> There is a very brief joke about one character "stalking" another. He isn't an actual stalker. Having been a victim myself, I do know how serious stalking is and do not take it lightly.

 

The next morning found Yugi once again at Sweet Temptations, covered in flour and up to his proverbial elbows in cupcakes. Today's featured flavor was tiramisu, which involved scooping out cones from the center of each baked cupcake and filling the hollow with sweetened, creamy mascarpone, then replacing the top, adding a dollop of hazelnut frosting, and dusting the finished cupcake with imported cocoa powder. A dark chocolate curl added the finishing touch. The tiramisu cupcakes were customer favorites and would sell out quickly. They were also delicious. But none of that made assembling the fussy little things go any faster, much to Yugi's dismay.

Ryou caught him nodding off over the mascarpone he was supposed to be folding into the filling for the second batch, and gave his shoulder a nudge. "We're almost finished with these. Once we're done, what do you say we take a short break for coffee and a freshly baked pastry or two?"

"Sounds great." Yugi bit off a yawn and forced his drooping eyelids to open wider. "Sorry, Ryou. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Again? I'm beginning to get worried about these nightmares of yours." Ryou's brown eyes reflected his concern. "Was it the same one as last time?"

Yugi nodded. "The one with the knives." He shuddered. "It was so real I had to check in the mirror when I woke up, just to convince myself no one had carved up my back while I was asleep."

Even now, the skin on Yugi's back felt stiff and oddly sensitive. He kept finding himself tugging his shirt away from his skin and having to resist the urge to scratch, as if there were a healing injury there.

"It must be terrible... Have you considered seeing a doctor?"

"I dunno. Maybe. I'd really just like to get an uninterrupted night's rest." As if to underscore the point, Yugi yawned again.

"Oh, my. Well... I wish there was something I could do to help."

"Thanks, Ryou. I'm sure I'll be fine, though." Yugi shrugged again. How did you go about conquering bad dreams? He had tried practicing relaxation techniques: meditation, thinking good thoughts, warm milk before bed... So far, nothing had helped and the lack of restful sleep was definitely beginning to take its toll. He had tried artificial sleeping aids exactly once. The pills had let him sleep all right, but they had made it almost impossible for him to wake up out of the dreams once they had hold of him. The experience was one he was in no hurry to repeat.

Working side by side, they quickly finished the morning's baking. The kitchen -- indeed, the entire bakery, including the little café area in the front -- was redolent with the warm scent of fresh bread, the sweet aroma of vanilla and sugar, and the spice of cinnamon. Yugi took a deep, appreciative breath as he settled at one of the small round café tables out front with a huge cup of hot coffee and a warm cheese danish. They still had a few minutes before the shop would officially open for the day and Yugi intended to make the most of it. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply of the aromatic steam wafting up from his coffee cup, and just enjoyed the stillness.

Which was promptly broken a second later by an insistent rapping at the bakery door. Yugi groaned into his coffee, shoved his chair back from the table, and trekked over to the door, where he peered out the window at the street outside. And then grinned.

"Ryou!" he called to his friend, who was just coming out of the kitchen with his hands full of piping hot danish, fresh from the oven. "It's your stalker."

Ryou froze, his brown eyes widening. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope." Yugi lifted the edge of the window shade and took another look. Beneath a curtain of wild white hair, hopeful brown eyes met his gaze. The "stalker" made broad pantomime gestures indicating that he would like it very much if Yugi opened the door and let him in. "I think he wants to come inside."

"Don't you dare!" Ryou practically teleported to his side, snatching at Yugi's hand and halting it in the act of reaching for the door knob. "He'll just sit at the table nearest the counter and make weirdly aggressive puppy eyes at me!"

"Oh, come on. It's cute. He really likes you."

A rosy sheen graced Ryou's cheeks. He stared at the toes of his shoes for a moment, and then looked back up through his bangs. "I know. It's just that he has a strange way of showing it."

"Ryou!" The voice calling through the keyhole was gruff, but not unpleasant. "I know you're in there. Let me in! I have something for you."

Yugi looked a question at his friend. After a moment during which he chewed indecisively on his lower lip, Ryou nodded. Yugi opened the door.

A familiar figure dashed inside as if afraid they would change their minds and lock him out again if he didn't get inside quickly enough. He was tall, with a slender build beneath his faded jeans and long-sleeved shirt. His hair was as light as Ryou's, though longer, and looked as if he had forgotten to comb it or perhaps lost the comb somewhere in its jutting layers. Sharp, handsome features and dark, cunning eyes completed the picture. He had one hand tucked behind his back.

Ryou eyed him with a wariness borne of long experience. "Um... Hullo, Bakheru. I, er, trust this morning finds you well?"

"What?" Bakheru blinked startled eyes at him before realization apparently dawned. "Oh. Small talk. Yeah, I was never much good at that. Let's skip it, shall we? Here." He thrust whatever it was that he had been hiding behind his back at Ryou. "I hope you like it."

"Um." Ryou stared down at the box in Bakheru's outstretched hand. He seemed to be waiting nervously for it to do something, perhaps explode or sprout a festive assortment of vipers. "Thank you?"

"Just take it already." Bakheru frowned at him. "It isn't going to bite you."

"Oh. Well, if you're quite sure..."

"Of course I'm sure! I wrapped the thing, didn't I?"

Looking at the box, Yugi was certain Bakheru _had_ wrapped it. The paper, though an attractive shade of blue, was torn at one corner and bore the signs of having been on the losing end of a battle with a determined gift wrapper and a roll of tape with a bad attitude. When Yugi finished studying the messily wrapped present and looked up, he found the other two still frozen in their previous positions: Bakheru with his arm outstretched, offering the box to Ryou; Ryou with his hands limp at his sides, his unhappy gaze locked on the box between them.

Yugi sighed. "I'm sure it's fine, Ryou. Why don't you and Bakheru sit down, and I'll bring you both some fresh coffee."

"That's what I like about you, Mutou," Bakheru said as he used his free hand to take an unresisting Ryou by the elbow and steer him toward the indicated café table. "You know when to make yourself scarce."

Yugi laughed and went to make the coffee.

When he came back, Ryou had finally snapped out of his daze and was gingerly tearing the paper off the box, which was sitting on the table in front of him. He got the lid off and peered inside. His eyes went wide at the sight of the large, clear plastic bags of white powder nestled in pale blue tissue paper.

Yugi felt his mouth drop open. "Bakheru! You're giving Ryou--"

"Flowers." Bakheru looked quite pleased with himself until he glanced up again and caught their twin expressions of disbelief. Obviously puzzled by their stunned reactions, he added a defensive, "... _What_?"

"Those aren't... that isn't... Um. I mean to say, you...Oh, dear." Ryou wound down, still staring at the little bags -- each of which probably held at least two pounds of the white substance -- and surrendered with a helpless little shrug, obviously not able to articulate the extent of his confusion. "... _Flowers?_ "

"Yes." Bakheru shook his head. "What's wrong with you two? Ryou's a baker. I thought he might like a sampling of some gourmet flours to try."

Both Yugi and Ryou puffed out enormous sighs of relief. "Oh, _flours_." Ryou brightened. "Yes. That's... very thoughtful of you, actually. Thank you!"

"You're welcome." Bakheru grinned the smug grin of one who was vastly pleased with himself and sipped delicately from the coffee cup Yugi set in front of him. "Now. What's on today's menu?"

-o0o-

Yami crept through the crowded halls of his hotel, trying to look inconspicuous. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have worried so much about it, but being surrounded by people for whom the gaming world was of major interest meant the chances of someone recognizing him were much greater than if he were in a crowd of average Joes.

Hurrying along, he passed a teenager in a white bodysuit, tall boots, bird-beaked helmet, and a jagged-edged cape that resembled wings. The kid jogged over to a similarly attired group of boys (and one girl, whose costume featured a short skirt rather than the full bodysuit). They all shouted "G-Force!" at the top of their lungs as they posed on the mezzanine overlooking the lobby. As Yami reached the elevators, a dark-haired woman in the puffiest white ballgown he'd ever seen slipped past him and into the elevator car. She was accompanied by a tall, thin man with blue-streaked blond hair even spikier than Yami's own. The man was doing some kind of fancy contact juggling with a crystal ball balanced on the back of one gloved hand. Under other circumstances, Yami might have been tempted to stay and watch, as the man's tricks were fascinating. But Yami couldn't afford to hang around where someone might recognize him, so once the doors opened he hurried out of the elevator, dodging around a trio of cosplayers dressed as Tetris blocks and someone in a complicated robot costume he was pretty sure was either a Transformer or a Gundam.

He had almost made it across the teeming lobby when he zigged instead of zagged and collided with a teenager in a purple leotard, darker purple tabard, oversized purple shoulder pads, and curving purple helmet. The impact made the helmet tip down over the kid's eyes and he lost his grip on his aquamarine staff. Without thinking, Yami reached down and retrieved it.

"Sorry," the kid said, shoving his helmet back into place and taking the staff when Yami held it out. "Didn't see you there. This thing keeps--" He fussed with the helmet for a second time and then stared at Yami. "Whoa. You're... you're..."

"No, I'm not!" Yami waved his hands frantically, trying to shush the kid before he could blurt out Yami's identity in the crowded lobby. He darted a look around, but no one appeared to have noticed them. "Really, I'm--"

" _Awesome_ costume, dude," the kid continued, oblivious to Yami's distress. "You look just like him!"

Huh? The kid thought Yami was cosplaying... as himself? Weak with relief, Yami said,"...Thanks?"

"Sweet." The kid laughed. "We should get some pics together later. You know, the famous duelist and his favorite Duel Monster?"

"Sure." Yami edged around him, aiming for the revolving doors now only a few feet away. "Uh, your costume is great, too. Gotta run. Have fun!"

"Sure, dude. Catch ya later!"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Yami made good his escape, hitting the doors at a fast clip and striding out into the cool morning of his second day in Domino City. He wasted no time in slipping on his dark glasses and hat, and striding up the sidewalk. A part of his concentration was devoted to reading the signs on the shops that lined the street, but another, greater part of it was keeping a lookout for any hint of his brothers. He hadn't wanted to remain in the hotel for fear of being recognized by possible fans, but now that he was out on the street, he feared being spotted by his family (or one of their loyal retainers, since he doubted Malik and Rishid were traveling without at least a small escort).

Yami could already feel a new headache building behind his eyes. Raising a hand to rub at his brow, he willed the ache to go away. Part of it was stress and the fact that he had taxed his physical reserves with so many major tournaments packed so closely together. Part of it was the fact that he didn't sleep well most nights, his rest plagued by dreams of being dragged back home against his will by amorphous, shadowy shapes with his father's voice. But he knew that the biggest reason his head was beginning to feel like the lead anvil in a rousing rendition of the _Anvil Chorus_ was that he had been separated from the damned Puzzle for too long. The strain on his bond was beginning to exact its toll.

Once a chosen Guardian bonded with his Item (and it was the Item that did the choosing), he or she had no option but to keep it near them at all times. He suspected that this was so a Guardian could never shirk their duties to their Item. He had certainly been tempted on occasion to chuck his Puzzle into the Nile or bury it beneath the desert sands. But he couldn't because his bond made him dependent on the damned thing's presence. The hand he pressed to his brow trembled slightly. Damn that fucking airline! They had better find his luggage soon or he would _really_ be in a bad way. Why had he thought it was a good idea to pack it in his checked luggage anyway?

His stomach growled, reminding him there could be another, more mundane reason he felt like crap: he hadn't eaten since last night. He lowered his hand and looked around. He was standing only a few doors down from what the sign over the awning promised was a store-front bakery. The door to the bakery opened to permit a customer to enter, releasing the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked cakes and breads. His stomach growled again, louder than before, informing him it wouldn't be averse to a fresh muffin or two. Nor would it object to hot coffee in large quantities, pronto.

Yami nodded to himself and headed toward the source of that delicious aroma of mingled sugar and cinnamon, vanilla, freshly baked bread, and other things that made him wonder if his nose had died and gone to olfactory heaven.

Maybe his luck was finally taking a turn for the better.

　

o0o

　

The bell over the bakery door jingled as Yami stepped inside. A few people glanced his way, but no one squealed or attempted to pounce on him, so he figured he was safe for the moment. He bought a large cup of coffee and, on a whim, an orange cupcake piled high with chocolate frosting. A curled strip of candied orange peel perched jauntily atop the frosting. When he looked around for a place to sit and eat his breakfast, he discovered to his dismay that all the small café tables were occupied by at least one customer. Yami frowned. He really didn't want to brave the street again just yet. Besides, if he were spotted, he would end up having to drop his treats while he made a run for it and he hated to be wasteful.

He was standing there debating what to do when someone nudged his side with an elbow. Startled from his musings, Yami jerked his head around -- and found himself staring at the shit-eating grin on the face of his blond cab driver. The blond had his hands full of cupcakes.

"Yo, good to see you're still in one piece." The blond's grin widened. "I was worried about ya without me there to pull your rear end outta the fire."

Yami snorted, amused in spite of himself. "Somehow, I managed to muddle through on my own."

"Yeah, I figured you would." The cabbie glanced around the crowded shop. "It's always like this in the mornings. So, you wanna share a table with me and my buddies?"

"You don't mind?"

"Wouldn't have asked ya, if I did. Come on, I'll introduce ya."

They made their way over to the cab driver's table, where two young men were already sitting with coffee and pastries of their own. The blond cab driver plopped his cupcakes down in the center of the small table and dropped onto one of the wrought iron chairs. "Shove over, guys. I brought a friend."

Gingerly, Yami settled in the one remaining chair and carefully placed his own breakfast on the table. The cab driver paused in the act of removing the paper cup from one of his cupcakes -- a bright green cake with fluffy, green-speckled frosting topped with a single, glistening pomegranate aril -- and said, "Guys, this is the dude I was telling ya about from yesterday." He cut his eyes at Yami. "I know you don't want me yelling out your name where everybody can hear it, so... What should we call ya?"

Yami had not considered that aspect of accepting the offer. He didn't want to use his real name -- and, frankly, after almost six years of being known exclusively as 'Yami' it was difficult to think of himself in any other way. "Yami is fine. Just... keep your voices down."

"You got it." The blond nodded. "I'm Joey, by the way. Jumpin' Joey Wheeler, at your service!" He flashed a bright grin and a victory sign before continuing with the introductions. He pointed with his cupcake toward the brown-haired young man across the table. "The lug in the uniform is my good buddy, Tristan Taylor."

Tristan wore a dark blue policeman's uniform, every seam neat and crisp. He reached across the table to shake Yami's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Same here."

"And this is Bakheru Nour. He stalks the guy who runs this place, so he's more like part of the scenery than an actual friend, but you get used to him. Eventually," Joey added, waving his free hand at the final person seated at their table. He raised his cupcake and took a huge bite, managing to get most of the cake into his mouth in one go. Instantly, his face contorted into an expression of exaggerated bliss. " _Mmmmm_. _Gooooood cupcake_."

"And that's the last coherent thing we'll get out of him for awhile," Tristan said, digging back into his own plate of tiny blueberry muffins.

Bakheru snorted. "Since when has Wheeler ever been 'coherent'?"

Yami lifted his coffee cup and studied Bakheru over the rim. There was something familiar about that mop of white-blond hair... And that name! Unless it was just some weird coincidence of language, it sounded like a name that someone from Yami's village might have. But that was crazy. What would someone from the Tombkeepers' village be doing in Domino City... Unless they were looking for him? Yami's brow furrowed as his thoughts turned dark. Damn it all. Was Bakheru going to try to detain him? Or would he simply report back to Yami's brothers that the prodigal son had been spotted and let the two of _them_ \-- and whichever _medjai_ they had brought with them -- deal with Yami?

Meanwhile, Bakheru was studying Yami in return. Peering covertly at Bakheru, Yami watched as the other man continued to dart speculative glances back at him. Bakheru seemed to be trying to figure something out. Maybe Bakheru didn't recognize him? Could Yami really be so lucky?

Joey finished his first cupcake, and then washed it down with a gulp from his tall paper cup, leaving a milk mustache on his upper lip. Seeing it, Tristan shook his head, balled up one of the paper napkins from the communal pile in the center of the table, and lobbed it at Joey's head. "Dude. You're such a slob. Wipe your mouth already!"

"Yes, _Mom_."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Not even if you paid me a million bucks." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Ugh. Time to roll. See you guys later." He shoved his chair back and got to his feet, collecting his trash to take to the receptacle on his way out. "Nice meeting you, Yami. Enjoy your stay in our fair city."

Joey snorted. "'Fair city'? Man, what was in your muffins this morning? Is the city council paying you to say that stuff?"

"I _wish_."

"It was nice meeting you as well, Tristan," Yami said, with a small smile. The policeman gave them all a parting wave as he headed out the door.

While Joey turned his avid attention back to his remaining cupcakes (each a different color and, presumably, a different flavor to match), Bakheru caught Yami's attention with a sly smirk. A quick glance showed Yami that Joey was back in cupcake heaven and wouldn't notice a bomb if it went off in his ear, so it was safe to lean over the table and, eyes narrowed, hiss at Bakheru, "Yes? You have something you want to say to me?"

Bakheru's gray eyes narrowed as well. " _I know who you are_."

It took Yami a moment to realize that the other man had not spoken in English, but in the language of the Tombkeepers' village. In the same tongue and keeping his voice low, Yami responded, "And just what do you intend to do with this supposed knowledge?"

"Nothing. For the moment."

"Is that a threat?" Yami was getting angry. He wouldn't stand for being blackmailed by this, this... And that's when it hit him. Suddenly, he knew exactly why Bakheru's name sounded so familiar. " _You!_ "

It was Bakheru's turn to look anxious. He had apparently not expected _Yami_ to recognize _him_. "What do you mean 'you'?" he demanded, obviously unhappy about finding himself on the defensive.

"I thought your name sounded familiar. You're that priest -- the one who turned thief and robbed the Pharaoh's treasure room in the sacred tomb!"

"Keep your voice down, you idiot!"

Yami looked around guiltily. His raised voice had drawn a few curious glances, but he had still been speaking in his native language, so he doubted anyone but Bakheru had understood what he had said. He lowered his voice again. "Looks like we are at an impasse, tomb robber. You may know who I am, but I know who _you_ are -- and if you try to hand me over to my brothers, I will return the favor. I'm certain the _medjai_ would love to get their hands on you."

At the mention of the Tombkeepers' private police force, Bakheru blanched. "There's no need to--" His words cut off abruptly as the rest of what Yami had said sunk in. "Wait. Your brothers are _here_? In Domino?"

Yami nodded.

" _Shit_." Bakheru raked both hands through his hair, leaving parts of it spiked up like albino bat wings, and fixed Yami with a glower. "They're looking for you, I suppose."

"Probably." Yami shrugged. "So far, I've managed to avoid finding out firsthand."

"Great." Bakheru slumped back in his chair. "So, what are we going to do?"

"'We'?"

"Yes, _'we'_. Neither of us wants to get hauled back to Egypt... Am I right?" He waited for Yami's nod before continuing, "And that means we both need to stay away from anyone who might try to take us there by force. So, I propose a truce."

"A truce?"

"Yes. I won't rat you out and you do the same for me. If worst comes to worst, we... help each other evade your brothers and anyone else who is working for the Tombkeepers."

"Agreed."

They shook hands on it. Yami reached for his cupcake, but thoughts of his family had soured his appetite. He glanced at Joey, who had been oblivious to the whispered conversation going on right under his nose (which was currently buried in cupcake number three, this one bright pink and topped with a frosting rose) and waved the orange-chocolate cupcake in front of his eyes. Switching back to English, Yami asked, "Hey, Joey? Do you want this?"

Joey paused with a half-masticated bite of pink mush in his partially-opened mouth. Eyes wide, he looked at the offered cupcake, then at Yami, and hastily swallowed. "You sure you don't want it?"

"I'm sure." Yami placed the cupcake in front of the cab driver. "Enjoy. I have to get going."

"Um, okay. Thanks, man."

Yami nodded, then shot a meaningful look at Bakheru. "See you around."

"Not if I see you first," Bakheru grumbled, but he rose to his feet. "I must be going as well. I'll walk out with you."

Joey waved at them both, his attention already drifting back to the cupcakey goodness still to be savored. He lifted Yami's former cupcake to his nose and inhaled appreciatively, then saluted them with it. "Bye! And, remember, if either of ya needs a ride, ya know who to call!"

The wind had picked up a bit while they were in the bakery, so it was a chilly breeze which greeted the two Egyptians as they exited the shop. Yami shivered and thought longingly of desert heat. Maybe the Millennium Puzzle had not been lost by accident. Maybe it had decided it wanted to go somewhere with a sunnier climate and had influenced the baggage handlers to send it to Hawaii on purpose. And maybe he really should have eaten something, appetite or no, because the idea that the Puzzle had somehow gained a will of its own was seeming far too plausible for comfort.

A small sound beside him reminded Yami that he was not alone. He glanced over at the other man, who was striding along beside him. In his native tongue, Yami snapped, "What do you want, tomb robber?"

Bakheru snorted and reached to flip up the collar of his lightweight jacket. "Oh, is that the way of it? Shall I bow and call you 'Lord Atem'?"

"I'd really rather you didn't."

"Then don't call me tomb robber."

Yami glared at him. "It's what you _are_."

"And you are the Lord Guardian of the Millennium Puzzle -- which, I might add, I do not see anywhere upon your illustrious person. What _have_ you done with it, my lord?"

"That's none of your business!"

"Touchy, touchy..." Bakheru shrugged nonchalantly, and then shoved his hands back into his jacket pockets. "It's not like I actually _care_ , you know. I was merely curious. As a priest, I was taught that the Guardians could not, once they were bonded, venture far from their sacred Items without serious consequences to their health."

As if to remind Yami how true the teachings were, his headache picked that moment to return full force, throbbing like a drumbeat behind his eyes. He frowned at his unwanted companion. "Did you follow me out here just to natter on about the ancient teachings?"

"No, of course not. I merely wanted to be certain we have an accord."

"We do. While I cannot condone what you did, I have no desire to involve myself in your capture when it would most likely mean my own as well."

 _Coward_ , Yami's conscience hissed at him. _He stole from the Blessed Dead_ \-- _even worse, from the Osiris Pharaoh himself! He_ must _face justice_.

Yes, he countered, _but why must_ I _be the one to see that he does? I am neither medjai nor judge!_

 _It is your duty, nonetheless! You must uphold the balance of ma'at_.

"...Yami?"

"I _said_ we have an accord," Yami growled, pushed to the limit of his fraying patience. "What more do you want from me?"

"Nothing." The tomb robber glared at him. "No, I take that back. I want you to stay away from the bakery. Ryou has enough problems without the ones your presence would visit upon him."

Yami didn't bother asking who Ryou was or why Bakheru cared what happened to him. He simply nodded. He could always find somewhere else to eat breakfast.

"Good. I trust we _won't_ be seeing each other again." Without waiting for a response, Bakheru turned and stalked off, disappearing into the crowd of pedestrians on the sidewalk.

Yami stood and stared after him for a long moment, wishing he could believe it was true.

　

-o0o-

　

Yugi brought out another tray of green-tea-and-pomegranate cupcakes to refill the display case just in time to see Bakheru leaving heading out the bakery's front door in the company of another man. He hid a grin. Ryou would be both relieved and disappointed. However much he might protest to the contrary, Ryou was actually quite flattered by Bakheru's attentions. The man might be eccentric, as proven by his strange way of courting the object of his affections, but he genuinely seemed to care about Ryou and that made all the difference.

Yugi straightened from setting the tray in place, and found himself subjected to Joey Wheeler's grin. "Hey, Joey. You still here? I thought you left with Bakheru."

"Nope, that was some other guy. In fact, I was kinda hopin' you'd make it out of the kitchen in time to meet him. He's quite a character. Oh, well. Maybe next time."

"Friend of yours?"

"You could say that. More like an acquaintance, I guess, but we've had some adventures together -- and I just met the guy yesterday." Joey laughed. "Maybe I'll stop by the game shop later and tell ya all about it."

"Okay. Come by around closing time and stay for dinner. Grandpa won't mind."

"You got it, pal. See ya later!"

"'Bye, Joey." Yugi waved to his friend as Joey sauntered out the door. He wondered about the man he had seen leaving with Bakheru. He had not gotten more than a glimpse of the other's back, so he had no idea what the guy looked like. He wondered how Joey had met him and what he had meant by 'adventures'.

Yugi gave a little mental shrug, and then turned to help a customer (most likely a con-goer) decked out in black from her _Darth Vader was Framed_ t-shirt to her knee-high boots. She winked and cheerfully informed Yugi that she represented the Dark Side and had come to replenish their cookie supply.

　

-o0o-

　

Somewhere inside the noisy and bustling main terminal of Honolulu International Airport, two men carried out a low-voiced argument in a language that would have sounded very familiar to both Yami and Bakheru. The taller man gestured abruptly to the golden ring resting against his chest. The ring, suspended on a slender cord which hung around the man's neck, had five small pendants shaped a bit like pointy plumb-bobs. Each of the pendants had lifted into the air and was straining in the direction of the baggage claim area.

"...and I am telling _you_ that the Millennium Ring is never mistaken. If it says the Millennium Puzzle is here, then the Puzzle is here!"

"Be that as it may, Mahaad, I have seen no sign of Lord Atem in this gods-forsaken place. Have _you_?"

"Well... No."

"Then why do you insist that he is here?"

"The Puzzle is here! Do you truly believe the Millennium Puzzle would be here if its Lord Guardian was not?"

"... _Fine_. Where is he, then?"

"I do not know. But we will keep searching until we find him. He must be warned of the betrayer--"

"Yes, yes. I know. I _agree_." The shorter man sighed. "But, can we at least get something to eat first? It has been many hours since I had that very small bag of peanuts on the airplane, and my stomach feels as if it is attempting to gnaw its way to freedom in order to search for food on its own."

"Very well." Mahaad glanced around the concourse, reading the various signs. His brow furrowed. "Karim... What is a 'hot dog'?"

"I do not know," Karim said, grabbing Mahaad's arm and striding with grim determination toward the food vendor. "But if I bite into it and it does not bite me back, I will eat it."

　

　

　

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my favorite part of this was writing Karim and Mahaad. They're such 'fish out of water'.
> 
> There's a NaNo* dare to write yourself into a scene in your novel, so I put myself in this chapter as a tiny cameo. Kudos and virtual cupcakes to anyone who spots it. :)
> 
> (*This story began as a NaNoWriMo project years ago and I'm still using the prompts, dares, etc. as inspiration to help me finish it.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This chapter combines the original chapter 6 and part of chapter 7.
> 
> Potential trigger warning: This chapter includes a dream/flashback to non-consensual body modification (scarification ritual).

Yami drifted around town for awhile before he found a relatively quiet spot and called the airline. The anonymous airline representative with whom he spoke informed him that they were still working on the theory that Yami's suitcases had gone to Honolulu, but that they had not actually _located_ his luggage. Did he want them to keep looking?

The stupidity of that question rendered him speechless for a second. Shaking his head as if that would dislodge the memory of it, he assured the representative that he did indeed want them to not only look for but to actually _find_ his wayward luggage ( _and return it to him_ , as mindblowing as that concept apparently was to the employees of Quality Airlines). The representative assured him that the airline would "proceed diligently with their pursuit of your request," and that he should "feel free to call back later" -- the _much later_ was heavily implied -- to check on their (lack of) progress, and, oh, yeah, "have a nice day, sir!" Yami resisted the urge to tell the representative where to stuff it, growled an expletive in his native language in lieu of a 'good-bye', and barely refrained from slamming his phone into the nearest wall.

Yami's head throbbed. While he hated the fact that destiny had saddled him with the Puzzle, he was coming to realize that there were worse things in life; namely, that being _separated_ from the damn Puzzle was infinitely worse than being stuck with it. Though he supposed they were part and parcel of the same thing. After all, if he had not been stuck with the Puzzle in the first place, then he would not now be suffering because he had been separated from it.

Pulling his hat down low over his forehead and shoving his sunglasses back into place, he resumed his aimless meandering through the city. He had no destination in mind, so he simply allowed his feet to take whichever path they chose. Despite the chill in the air, he was enjoying his ability to wander as he pleased, and he did so for hours. For once, he did not want to feel as if he had somewhere that he had to be. He was tired of deadlines and rushing to meet them. There would be more than enough of that once the tournament began.

While Yami fully intended to win this tournament, as he had the previous two in the series, he wasn't in it for the title. In fact, he thought the title ("King of Games") was rather silly. Being the best player of a card game primarily marketed to children was not a world-shaking achievement for an adult, even a fairly young one. But the money awarded along with that silly title would give him a freedom and a security he had only dreamed of before. And _that_ was a prize worth winning.

Yesterday's storm clouds were still hanging around and the threat of rain hung heavy in the air. As he walked, Yami had to dodge the occasional puddle on the sidewalk from the previous day's deluge. The rain had cooled things off, leaving a definite nip in the air that hinted at the colder weather to come. An erratic breeze tousled his hair and toyed with his clothes, before snatching the hat right off his head.

Yami made a grab for the delinquent headgear, but the hat eluded his grasp, swooping skyward before parachuting into the middle of the busy street -- and directly under the wheels of a city bus. Safe on the sidewalk, Yami could only stand and gape at the felt pancake formerly known as his fedora. And then he heard the sound he had come to dread above all others. The sound of high pitched voices squealing his name.

" _Oh_ my _gawd_ , it's Yami! Look, over there -- it's _Yami! Yami!_ "

 _Shit_.

Abandoning his ruined hat, Yami ran for his life (and intact clothing).

　

-o0o-

　

Yugi had just finished ringing up a customer when the door to the game shop flew open and a frantic figure flung himself inside. The strange man dove behind the first display he came to, crouching down and peering between the shelves as if he expected a team of ninja assassins to come flying through the door and attack him. Both Yugi and his customer stared at the stranger - and then at the horde of squealing teenage girls which galloped by on the street outside, their high-pitched screams clearly audible even through the closed door of the shop.

The customer, an adolescent boy still of an "ick, girl cooties! " age, took the plastic shopping bag filled with his video game purchases from Yugi and sneered, "Girls!" before trotting up the center aisle and out of the store. The bell on the door jangled in his wake. Yugi secured the register, and then went to investigate the mystery man, who was still cowering behind the shelf of role-playing starter sets.

"Um, excuse me," Yugi said and then faltered when the other man jumped so violently that he knocked one of the starter sets off the shelf -- and onto his foot. "Oops, sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."

"No problem." The words were gritted out from between clenched teeth as the man bent to retrieve the game and set it back on the shelf with a solid _thunk_. It was a _heavy_ box.

Yugi opened his mouth to say something -- either to ask what the man was doing or to apologize again, he wasn't sure -- but the man stood to his full height at that point, and Yugi got a good look at his face. His mouth fell open and his lips worked, but no sound came out.

"Oh, please," said the stranger, who looked an awful lot like a certain duelist whose famous face was plastered all over the game shop on promotional posters, magazine covers, and assorted ads. " _Please_ tell me you're not a Duel Monsters fan."

-o0o-

　

Yami watched as, instead of answering the question, the other guy just reached over and flipped the sign on the door to 'closed', and then locked the door. He turned back to Yami, a tiny smile working at the corners of his mouth, and said, "Come on. Let's get you away from the windows."

 _Damn_. So, the guy _did_ recognize him. Frowning, Yami followed the shorter man toward the back of the store. At least there didn't seem to be any other customers in the shop, so he didn't have to worry about someone ambushing him from between the tidy displays.

When he reached the counter at the back of the shop, the shorter guy lifted a portion of the counter top so they could pass through the gap left by its removal.

"If you want to come upstairs, I'll make us some hot tea." The guy motioned toward a door set into the rear wall. "My grandpa and I live in the apartment above the shop."

Yami hesitated. The guy seemed nice enough, but... He shot a glance back at the front of the store, as if he could still see the mob of fans (yeah, okay, so it was more like four or five, but it had _felt_ like a mob) who had been chasing him down the street. He shuddered. "Yeah. That... that sounds okay."

"Great! Come on. You can sit in the kitchen while I make the tea -- I mean, if you want to, that is. It's warmer in there. I always like to sit in there myself when the weather starts to turn cold, and I..." The clerk's cheeks flushed bright red. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Just a little."

"Sorry." By then, they had gone through the door and up the stairs on the other side to the homey living space above the store. The kitchen was a cozy galley-style room done in bright, cheerful colors. "Have a seat." The shop clerk gestured to the square breakfast table against one wall, and then moved to assemble the tea things. "Um. I'm Yugi."

"Yami."

"Yeah," a little laugh, muffled when Yugi turned away and bent his head over the tray. "I know. I, uh, recognized you from the posters. You know, for next week's Duel Monsters tournament."

"Right. Of course." Yami took the chair closest to the doorway, and then sat and watched while Yugi prepared two mugs of tea, using a hot water dispenser built into the sink. He brought the steaming mugs to the table and set one in front of Yami. The delicate, floral scent of white tea wafted up to him along with the steam. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Yugi took the opposite chair, near the stove. "So... Why were those girls chasing you?"

It was Yami's turn for his face to flame red. He quickly covered his embarrassment by fussing with his tea, stirring in a spoonful of sugar even though he never drank his tea sweet. "...Fans." His shoulders twitched in an uncomfortable shrug. "You know."

"Oh. Um. That must be really--"

"Annoying? Awkward? Scary?"

"Those, too." Ducking his head, Yugi smiled behind the rim of his mug.

Yami couldn't stop an answering grin. "Yeah."

Some of the tension eased between them after that. The taut set of Yugi's shoulders relaxed a little as he sipped at his tea. "So..."

When he did not do anything more than trail off awkwardly, Yami toyed with his mug, moving it around on the table, and tried to think of a conversation starter. "So..."

Okay, so he didn't have any idea what to talk about, either. He glanced at his watch. "Not to be rude, but do you mind if I make a phone call? I should check with the airline and see if they've finally managed to locate my missing luggage."

Not that Yami had much hope of success. He was convinced that Quality Airlines wouldn't be able to find its collective ass with GPS and a Sherpa guide.

"The airline lost your luggage? That sucks." Yugi made a 'go ahead' gesture with one hand. "I don't mind if you call them. Do they have any idea where it went?"

"Hawaii. In theory, at any rate."

"Wow. That's... nowhere near here."

"Tell me about it."

"You want to use the phone in the living room? I have a telephone directory, if you need one."

"Thanks, but I've got the stupid airline on speed dial on my cell."

Yugi laughed. "Probably a good idea." He rose from the table. "I'll give you some privacy for your call. Just come into the living room, down that way--" He pointed out the appropriate hallway. "--when you're through. Okay?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"No problem."

-o0o-

　

In something of a daze, Yugi carried his tea into the living room and sank down onto the overstuffed sofa. He still couldn't wrap his brain around the idea that he had a _world famous duelist_ in his kitchen. He wished that his grandfather was home. Solomon Mutou was a huge Duel Monsters fan, and to actually meet one of the top-rated duelists in the world would be a huge thrill for him. Yugi cut his eyes toward the kitchen, and then glanced at the phone sitting innocuously on the end table next to the sofa. Would it really be so terrible if he picked up the phone and called his grandpa? Solomon was running errands, but if Yugi told him that _the_ Yami was in their apartment, he'd race home in a heartbeat.

He'd actually reached for the phone before he came to his senses. _Of course,_ he couldn't do that! It'd be one thing if Solomon happened to make it back to the shop in time to meet Yami, but it was an entirely different thing to betray Yami's trust by ratting him out when he was obviously trying to avoid his fans, even if the fan in question happened to be Yugi's grandfather.

Yugi slumped into the sofa, sliding down until he was almost swallowed up by the cushions. He wished that he dared to ask Yami if he could get a picture of him standing in front of the shop. His grandpa was never going to believe that Yugi had met _the_ Yami, not without some kind of evidence.

The man in question strode out of the kitchen, a frustrated expression marring his handsome, angular features. Unearthing himself from the cushions, Yugi scooted over to make room for Yami. "No luck on the luggage?"

"Not really, no." Yami sank gracefully onto the sofa, and then scrubbed one hand over his face. He looked exhausted. "It wouldn't be so bad, but... There's something, an item in one of the suitcases that I really need to have back as soon as possible." He shook his head, squared his shoulders, and managed a faint smile. "They said they were almost positive my luggage was actually at the Honolulu airport. I'm supposed to call back in a couple of hours."

"That's good, right? At least you have some idea where it ended up."

"I suppose so." Yami did not sound convinced, but Yugi thought it was more because he was in some kind of physical discomfort than because he was rejecting Yugi's optimism. There were lines of strain around Yami's eyes and mouth, his lips were almost white where he pressed them together, and his lean body looked like a monument to tension.

"Do you have a headache or something?" Yugi asked, watching his guest closely. Yami's eyes widened in apparent surprise.

"How did you--?"

"I thought so. Would you like some aspirin? Or Tylenol? I think we have some of that, too."

"No. Thank you, but I'll be fine." He didn't sound fine, unless he was using some alternate definition of the word that meant the exact opposite of what Yugi thought 'fine' should mean. His eyelids were drooping even as he spoke, his perfect posture losing its crispness as he sagged deeper into the cushions. "I'm just... I haven't been sleeping well, and I'd hoped to take a few days off before the start of the tournament. But the damned hotel screwed up my booking and forced me to stay at the same hotel where they're holding that convention this weekend, and--"

Holy _crap_. No wonder the poor man looked as if he were on the verge of collapse. And recent experience had taught Yugi all about sleep deprivation and what it could do to a guy. "Can't you find another hotel?"

Yami's chin drooped toward his chest, and his eyes had drifted almost shut. "No other rooms _anywhere_. Looked. 'm stuck there..."

His voice faded along with the last of his resistance. Yugi watched, astonished, as the other man's breathing deepened and his body went boneless as he slid into an exhausted slumber.

Yami -- _the_ Yami -- was asleep on Yugi Mutou's sofa.

After a few seconds, Yugi's brain jumped back into gear. Yami was obviously beyond tired to have fallen asleep in a total stranger's house, and while not only sitting upright but also fully clothed. So, Yugi decided, he'd let Yami sleep as long as he needed. Careful not to wake him, Yugi went to find a blanket and pillow for his unexpected guest.

　

-o0o-

　

Yami dreamed.

A part of him knew that he was dreaming, but there was nothing he could do except go along for the ride. Even though his mind fought against it like a swimmer caught in a treacherous current, the rising tide of nightmare pulled him under...

　

　

It was always quiet in the abandoned chapel. Atem crouched in the narrow space between an ancient offering table and the wall as he made a futile effort to calm his frantic, gasping breath and straining to hear over the shouting voice of his heart. He did not think that anyone had seen him run into the closed-off corridor that led to this forgotten part of the complex, but he did not want to take the chance. If someone had seen and followed... or told his family... If they found him... He shuddered. Falling back into the hands of those who chased him would mean that the ritual would proceed as planned. He had a flash of red-hot knives and his father's razor smile.

Shivering, he tried to distract himself by reading the text chiseled into the side of the offering table, but the huge chunks of missing plaster, into which the text had originally been incised, made the task an impossible one for a boy on the verge of panic. The sacred words blurred into meaninglessness. It was dark in the chapel, filled with an oppressive silence, and hot. Sweat trickled down his face and down the back of his neck, plastering his thin linen robe to his body. With each passing heartbeat, he was certain his uncles would find him and drag him, kicking and yelling, back to his father.

His eyes stung, and he pretended that all of the moisture that he wiped away with an angry swipe of his sleeve was just more of the sweat that left salty trails on his clammy skin. He did not _care_ about tradition. He _hated_ it! He did not want to be the eldest son, the heir. He did not want to be bonded to the Millennium Puzzle. And, most of all, he did not want to have the Seal of the Shadows carved into his back by his father's hand.

A sharp noise echoed up the corridor beyond the doorway. Atem froze, breath seizing in his lungs, heart pounding in his throat. It came again, the sound of a rock skittering across the floor as if kicked by a human foot. His heartbeat threatened to choke him. Had they found him?

Atem hunched lower in his corner, making himself as small as possible. He hugged his drawn up knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and scrunching forward to bury his face against his legs. His breath came in harsh little pants that he tried without success to stifle. His pulse thundered in his ears, so loud he could hear nothing over the sound of it, and his vision grayed around the edges.

He gritted his teeth, trying to choke back his terror, and sent a silent prayer to the Great Lord Amun that whoever was in the outer chamber would go away -- _goawaygoaway **goaway**_ \- and leave him in peace.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed that on this day his prayers were to go unanswered.

He cringed lower in his hiding place when he heard the crunch and slide of sandaled feet moving over the scattered rock and plaster debris littering the floor of the chapel, coming with every step. His breath caught, the thick taste of terror choking him. His eyes burned, so he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face harder into the fine weave of his robe. A silent litany repeated itself over and over in his frantic mind: _no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no_...

He almost screamed when the rough hand slammed down on his shoulder.

Frightened almost out of his mind, he peered up to find one of his uncles looming over him. The man's hand tightened its grasp before Atem could attempt to squirm free. The man hauled him to his feet, dragged him into the light of the lamps the other men held. "I have found our little runaway!"

The triumph in that gruff voice made Atem's stomach lurch.

Summoned by the call, Atem's father appeared in the doorway. His face was shadowed, but Atem could hear the displeasure clearly in the cold, deep voice that commanded, "Bring him."

"Of course, brother."

Though he struggled, Atem could not free himself from his uncle's grip. The older man dragged him out to the larger chamber where the other men -- priests, all, and family -- were waiting. Uncle Mehen turned him over into the care of two of the younger men, cousins who resented the fact that a "runt like Atem" would one day be their ruler. Their hands on him were not kind.

Bruised and frightened, he was half-carried, half-dragged along the darkened corridors and into the isolated room where the sacred ritual would be performed. His father led the way.

In the ritual chamber, flames flickered from every direction. Lamps illuminated the walls and the stone platform at the center. In one corner, a brazier burned, adding to the smothering heat. Shadows, cast by the fires, writhed across every surface, twisting mundane objects into the stuff of nightmares. Atem stared at the shadows, trying to keep his gaze from the brazier, where he knew the knives were heating. A cousin tended them, making them ready to carve the sacred designs into his back. The markings that would brand him forever as a Tombkeeper lord.

His father broke the silence. "Place him on the stone."

Atem's captors obeyed, manhandling him over to the platform. They stripped his robes from him, so that he was naked, and forced him to lie upon the cold stone on his belly. While his cousins held him, one of his uncles shoved a cloth gag into Atem's mouth. He bit down on it, finding that there was a stick or flat piece of wood wrapped within the cloth. His uncle secured the gag around his head, so that Atem could not spit it out, and then his cousins crouched to secure his hands and feet so he couldn't wriggle free. No matter how hard he struggled, he could not escape.

He heard the sinister rasp of metal against metal. Straining his neck to its limit, he managed to twist enough to catch a glimpse of his father taking one of the glowing knives from the fire. The red-hot blade seemed to burn him across the distance separating them. Atem's eyes widened.

 _No_ , he begged silently, the gag allowing him only muffled pleading noises. _No, no, no - please, by all the Great Gods, do not do this! Father, please!_

His father strode toward him, the knife steady in his hand. No amount of pleading on his part would deter his father from carrying out the tradition; he could see that now.

"Hold him steady," his father ordered. His cousins obeyed, their rough hands biting into the tender flesh of his wrists and ankles. "The Seal must be perfect. Do not let him move."

His hand came down to stroke over Atem's hair. "This is your destiny, my son. Do not fear it. Embrace it and it will make you great!"

Atem shook his head, trying to deny what was about to happen to him. His father's hand gave his hair a painful tug as he forced Atem's neck to bend, to yield to a greater strength. Unable to move, to flee, Atem trembled as he felt the scratch of a charcoal stick tracing the Seal on his naked back.

A moment later, he screamed as the first knife bit into his flesh...

　

-o0o-

　

"...Yami! Wake up, Yami!"

Disoriented, Yami struggled up from the depths of unconsciousness. He was only vaguely aware, at first, of the concerned voice calling his assumed name. As it always did when he woke from a dream ( _memory_ ) of the ritual, his back ached with phantom pain. Groaning, he curled in on himself, hugging his arms across his torso as if he could guard himself from it. His throat was tight and ached, and he could feel the traces of tears on his cheeks.

"Yami? Come on, open your eyes." The voice was gentle but persistent. "I need to know you're all right. You're scaring me, Yami. _Please,_ open your eyes _._ "

Something about that voice tugged at him, made him want to reassure and comfort the speaker. Reluctantly, Yami cracked open his eyes... and found himself staring up into worried blue. "...Yugi?"

"Are you really awake now? You can hear me?" Yugi bent closer, frowning as he got a better look at Yami's face. "Are you okay?"

"It was just..." Yami could not quite stop the sharp, bitter laugh that bordered on a sob. He bit back the next one, recovering his poise as he shoved his body upright on what he now saw was Yugi's sofa, dislodging the blanket that had covered him. He cleared his throat before finishing the thought. "Just a dream. I'm fine."

Yugi didn't appear convinced. "That must have been some dream. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I am." Yami very firmly didn't allow any doubt to enter his voice. He tossed off the blanket, forcing Yugi to move away as he rose to his feet. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm quite all right."

"Well, if you say so."

The chiming of the doorbell interrupted whatever Yugi had been about to say. He shot an apologetic look at Yami. "Sorry. I need to go get that. I told one of my friends to come over for dinner tonight and--"

Yami gave a tired nod. "It's fine. Go ahead."

When Yugi returned a few minutes later, he had a familiar figure in tow. Yami stared at the blond cabbie as he followed Yugi into the living room. "Joey?"

"Hey, Yam man! Good ta see ya again." Joey grinned. "Although, I gotta say, this is just about the last place I expected to run into you. I woulda thought you'd avoid game shops like the plague."

"I was being chased by rabid fangirls. It was a case of 'any port in a storm.'" Yami started to return the grin, then Joey's nickname for him finally caught up with his still sleep-fogged brain. "' _Yam man_ '?"

"Eh-heh." Joey rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "What? I think it's cute."

"Has anyone ever told you you're weird, Joey?" Yami's laugh took the sting out of the teasing words. He glanced over to find his host watching them both with enormous eyes.

Yugi's gaze ping-ponged between them. "You guys know each other?"

"Yami's the guy I was tellin' ya about earlier at the bakery, Yug'," Joey said. "You know, the one I've been havin' adventures with." He snickered at the expression on Yami's face. "What? You don't think those were adventures?"

"Living nightmares is more like it." Yami shook his head. "Tell you what - You go deal with the crazy fans for a few days and I'll drive your cab. What do you say?"

"I'd say you were on, but there's no way I'm doin' that--" Joey waved a hand at Yami's head. "-to my hair. Besides, nobody'd ever believe that I'm you."

"Suck that badly at Duel Monsters, huh?"

"Hey!" Joey drew himself up into a dramatic pose, thrusting one hand toward the ceiling, fingers forming a 'V for victory'. "I'll have you know that I once made the finals of the Domino City championship tournament!"

"Which he promptly lost to Weevil Underwood," Yugi interjected, earning himself a friendly headlock and a spirited attempt by Joey to noogie Yugi's head into submission. "Ack! _Joey_ \-- Cut it out!"

"We agreed never to speak of Bug Boy again!"

" _You_ agreed, maybe..."

"Well, _you're_ gonna agree now or else."

Yugi squirmed, almost succeeding in breaking out of his friend's hold. "No way! He beat you with an _insect deck_ , Joey. That's just--"

"Oh, so that's how it is, huh? In that case, may I remind you that I know where your grandpa keeps the baby pictures and I'm sure Yami would love to see the 8x10 glossy of your bare butt adorning a bearskin rug--"

"I agree!" Yugi yelped without hesitation.

"Oh, you think he'd like that, too? Okay, I'll just go get the--"

"No!" When a spastic flurry of flailing limbs failed to free him, Yugi went limp in Joey's arms. "I give! I'll never mention Weevil again!"

With a triumphant "ha!", Joey set his captive free. Yugi staggered for a moment before regaining his balance. He busied himself trying to tame his hair, which Joey's antics had tangled into multicolored knots on top of his head.

"So..." Acting as if the past couple of minutes had never happened, Joey shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants and rocked back and forth on his heels. "What's for dinner?"

"I'm not sure. Grandpa hasn't gotten back yet with the groceries." Yugi gave up his hair as a lost cause. "Um, I can probably find some crackers or chips, if you want a snack while we wait."

"Nah, I'm good. A soda'd be nice, though."

"Sure. No problem." Yugi glanced at Yami. "Would you like something else to drink, Yami? I have soda, water, or more tea-?"

"Water, if it's no trouble."

"Nope! No trouble at all." Yugi smiled. "You guys sit down. I'll be right back."

"So," Yami said, settling back onto the sofa as he watched Joey take a seat in the comfortable-looking chair on the other side of the low coffee table. "You and Yugi are friends?"

"Oh, yeah. We've been best buds since high school. Well, after I got over that whole 'beating him up for his own good thing.'" Joey had the grace to look embarrassed. "Heh. I was kinda weird in high school."

Yami graciously refrained from remarking that Joey didn't appear to have changed much in the intervening years. He was relieved when Yugi reappeared a moment later with a tray of drinks balanced precariously in his hands. Without thinking, Yami leaped to his feet and took the tray from Yugi, setting it down on the coffee table. He straightened to find the other two eyeing him with surprise. Only then did he realize what he had done.

"Uh..." Yami cast about for a reasonable explanation for his actions and latched onto the first thing that popped into his head. "It looked heavy?"

Yugi's expression did a funny little dance before settling into what looked like "yeah, okay, let's go with that." Joey just snickered. Yami cast a glance around the room, searching for something to concentrate on other than the pink flush blooming on Yugi's cheeks. He found the wall clock over the television.

Had he really been asleep that long? By the time on the clock, it had been several hours since he sought refuge in the Kame Game Shop. He felt a flush of his own creeping up his neck. What must Yugi think of him, falling asleep like that? Yami could not believe how rude he had been; his mother would have been appalled.

"Yugi... Look, I'm really sorry for dozing off like that," Yami began.

Joey interrupted with a gleeful whoop. "He fell asleep on ya? No wonder it took you so long to answer the door!"

"Not like that, Joey!" Yugi's blush went nuclear. "He didn't mean it _literally_."

"Uh-huh. _Suuuure_ he didn't."

"No, I..." Yami shook his head. He was usually much more articulate than this. He could only think that it was some affect of his being separated for so long from the damn Puzzle. Which reminded him... "Er, I hate to be rude, Yugi, but would you mind if I called the airline again? I _really_ need to find my luggage."

"No, of course not. Do you want to make your call in the kitchen?"

"Thank you. That would be fine." Yami, his face still red as a beet if the temperature of his skin was anything to go by, retreated into the kitchen. Behind him, he could hear Yugi scolding Joey for teasing them.

Yami pulled out his phone and took a minute to breathe a prayer to the Great Lord Amun, in his role as He Who Watches Over Travelers. (With the way Yami's luck had been going, he figured he needed all the help that he could get.) Then he called the airline and hoped for the best.

　

　


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Mahaad and Karim! Yugi and Yami decide to sleep together! (Technically.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter combines chapters 7 (the remaining scene from last time) and 8 from the original postings on FF.net.
> 
> NOTE: I have never been to the airport referenced. I did some minor research back when I first wrote this but none since; just assume that everything about the airport is fictional.

In the Honolulu International Airport, two men were eating frozen yogurt (Double Chocolate Mousse and Raspberry Mango Swirl, respectively) and watching the complimentary hula show. The cold treat was a first for both of them, though they were divided on whether it was better than the hot dogs.

Without warning, the pendants on the taller man's Millennium Ring suddenly leaped to life, rising off his chest and straining toward the taxiway outside the terminal. The unexpected movement startled the man (who was, of course, Mahaad) so that his hand jerked, causing him to dump half a cone of Double Chocolate Mousse down the back of his companion's neck. The shorter man (Karim, who had decided that frozen yogurt tasted much nicer than hot dogs) yelped as icy yogurt slithered down his neck and the back of his shirt. His own arm twitched, smashing his waffle cone into the center of his companion's chest, liberally smearing both the Millennium Ring and Mahaad's white silk robe with a blaze of hot pink and neon orange frozen yogurt.

Mahaad glowered. " _Karim_!"

"It was an accident, Mahaad. Besides--" Mourning the loss of his creamy slice of paradise, Karim glared back at him. "--you startled me when you dumped _your_ yogurt down the back of _my_ robe! Why did you do that? There are easier and far less messy ways of obtaining my attention, you know."

Focusing on the quivering pendants hanging from the ring on his chest, Mahaad ignored the complaint. "The Puzzle is moving!"

"Why did you not say so in the first place?" Karim huffed in annoyance at this oversight on his companion's part. "If we find the Puzzle, we will find Lord Atem. We must go after it at once!"

Mahaad glanced down at his once-pristine robe, now dripping with slimy sludge, and the rather large splotch of chocolate brown decorating the middle of Karim's back. "First, we must acquire a change of clothing. We cannot get onto the airplane looking like this. We would draw far too much attention to ourselves."

Peering around the crowded concourse, Karim spotted a shop on the other side of the line of undulating hula dancers. An unholy gleam came into his dark eyes as he studied the offerings on display in the shop's window. "Never fear, cousin. I think I have found _exactly_ what we need."

Grabbing Mahaad by the arm, a madly grinning Karim hauled him toward the Pineapple Paradise Aloha Shirt Emporium. The goods in the display window (particularly the fluorescent green shirt with the purple penguins 'hanging ten' on hot pink waves) were calling his name.

　

-o0o-

　

In the Mutou's living room, Yugi flopped bonelessly down onto the sofa (coincidentally, in the same spot Yami had so recently vacated) and reached for his can of soda. He glared at Joey from under his tousled bangs. "I can't believe you said that! And to _the_ Yami, of all people!"

" _'The'_ Yami? Dude. He's just a regular guy -- if you ignore the multicolored-starfish-hair-of-doom, that is." Joey popped the top on his soda and slugged back a long swallow. He lowered the green can, belched happily, and grinned. "Oh, yeah. That hits the spot!"

If Tristan had been there, he would have smacked Joey on the back of the head and chided him for having the manners of a feral stoat. Yugi just rolled his eyes and used his finger to draw smiley face patterns in the condensation on the side of his own soda can.

"Seriously, Yug'," Joey continued, stretching his long legs out in front of him and resting his Mountain Dew on his flat stomach. "He's not like that, at least not from what I've seen. You don't have to treat him like anything special -- not like a celebrity, I mean. From the way things have been going for him since he got to Domino City, the man'd probably appreciate just bein' treated like one of the guys."

Yugi looked unconvinced. "You really think so? He's a famous duelist, Joey. He's probably used to VIP treatment."

"No way. I'm tellin' you, he acts like he'd rather be a regular slob like you an' me. Trust me on this one, buddy. He's not lookin' for special treatment. Or, maybe, just being treated like a regular guy _is_ the special treatment where he's concerned."

A thoughtful expression crossed Yugi's face. Maybe Joey had a point. After all, Yami _had_ been fleeing from his fans when he came into the game shop. If he'd really wanted to be treated like someone who should be put on a pedestal, then wouldn't he have just stayed on the street and enjoyed the adulation of his admirers?

"Maybe you're right..."

"I know I am." Joey looked smug. "Look. When he comes back out of the kitchen, just try it and see. Okay?"

Yugi nodded. It wouldn't hurt anything, and he would find out quickly enough if such treatment insulted Yami or not. He glanced at the clock, wondering what was keeping his grandfather.

　

-o0o-

　

Yami had gotten mixed news from the airline. On the good side of the equation, they had confirmed his luggage was indeed in Honolulu. On the bad side, it would be at least day after tomorrow before it could be sent back to Domino City. Always assuming, of course, that the baggage handlers didn't, in another fit of whimsy, send his bags jaunting off to Timbuktu or (the way his luck was running) the moon.

He sighed. What had possessed him to think a vacation would be a good idea anyway? From now on, he was sticking with what he knew: being a workaholic. Just like Seto Kaiba. Who really _could_ have offered him a room in that ridiculously oversized mansion, come to think of it, rather than condemning Yami to Convention Hell for the next three days. Yami scowled and began pondering what he could do to pay the billionaire back on their next meeting. Oh, yes. Seto needed to _pay_ for this one.

Visions of mayhem dancing like sugar plums in his head, Yami stalked back into the living room. Two pairs of startled eyes lifted to meet his as he re-entered the room.

"Dude." Joey's brown eyes widened at the expression on Yami's face. "Who are you plotting to murder?"

Oh, no. He wasn't going to _kill_ Seto.

"Death's too good for him," Yami growled, dropping onto the sofa and reaching for his glass of water. The other two continued to stare at him. He took a long, steadying sip before noticing their expressions. "Seto Kaiba. He could have offered to put me up in that mansion of his, but _noooo_. Instead, I'm stuck in the Hotel of Never-ending Parties until Sunday -- Monday, if the con-goers don't actually clear out until after the first of the week."

Oh, god. Yami blanched as that particular possibility sank in. "I may _actually_ _die_ of sheer exhaustion if I don't get a decent night's sleep sometime within the next 72 hours."

Yugi looked sympathetic. Joey looked sly. He leaned over and stretched out one long leg to nudge Yugi with the toe of his ratty trainers. "You got a spare room, don'tcha, Yugi?"

"Um. What?" Yugi's eyes had gone so wide they appeared to be staging a coup on his other facial features. " _Joey_ \--"

"I wouldn't want to impose." Yami couldn't quite keep the hopeful note out of his voice. The thought of having to return to Hotel Hell was making his headache worse by a factor of a million. He was even willing to do a little begging if that would get him out of going back there. "After all, you don't even know me."

"No, I-- That is--" Yugi stammered, his face flaming even brighter red than before. He went to set his soda on the tray and almost tipped the whole thing over. Yami reacted without thinking, catching the falling soda can -- and Yugi's hand into the bargain. Yugi's blush went nuclear. "I... I... I..."

"What he's tryin' to say is that it's no trouble at all, Yami. There's a spare bedroom upstairs, and no reason you can't hide out here 'til the con's over. _Right_ , Yugi?"

Yugi ripped his gaze away from where Yami's fingers rested against his and glared at Joey. Then he sighed. "I guess it'd be okay. If... If you really want to." He bit his lower lip and cut his gaze back toward Yami, looking at him obliquely from behind the shelter of his hair. "...Do you?"

Did he? Yami hesitated. He reached for his water glass again, only then realizing that he was still holding Yugi's hand. He jerked his own hand away, and then felt bad for the rude gesture -- although whether the rude gesture in question was the unsolicited hand-holding or the jerking of said hand away, he couldn't have said.

"I... Are you sure it would be all right?" Yami _really_ didn't want to go back to that hotel, not even to get his things, though he supposed he would have to. Assuming, of course, that Yugi was actually going to let him stay here. "I don't want to put you out or anything, but... I would _really_ appreciate the offer, if you mean it."

Yugi sighed. "Of course, I mean it." He shot an unfathomable look at Joey, who was grinning like a jack-o-lantern on crack. "I would be happy to offer you a room for the weekend, Yami."

"And I'll even go to the Hotel o' Doom and pick up your stuff for ya, so you don't have to run the fan gauntlet," Joey said cheerfully, sitting up and giving them both a hearty thumbs up gesture. "Just gimme your room key."

"Thank you." Yami felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could feel himself starting to grin. "Thank you both. You don't know what this means to me."

He looked at Yugi, who smiled in return. "I think maybe I can guess," Yugi said, and got to his feet. "Give Joey your key, and I'll go make up the bed in the guest room."

Feeling better than he had since he had gotten off the plane, Yami fished his electronic room key out of his pocket and tossed the card to Joey. "I'll call the hotel and tell them I'm checking out. Just turn in the key on your way back."

"You got it."

They watched Joey dash out of the room and heard him clatter down the stairs to the front door, by passing the shop. Yami turned back to Yugi. "I can't thank you enough for doing this, Yugi. _Really_. I'm in your debt. If there is ever anything I can do to repay your kindness--"

"It's no problem, Yami. I'm just happy I can help." Yugi smiled up at him. "You call the hotel and take care of that while I take care of things upstairs. I'll be right back."

Yami could only nod and wonder what had happened to finally turn his luck around.

　

-o0o-

　

Yugi smoothed the fresh sheet, which smelled of the fabric softener his grandfather had used in the laundry, over the small bed in the guest room. He placed the pillows, each encased in an equally fragrant pillow case, back on the bed, and then tucked the blankets into place. There. His gaze meandered around the tidy little room. Everything seemed to be in order, he thought with a faint smile. Satisfied that the room was ready for his unexpected guest, he trotted back downstairs. He had barely made it to the hallway when the house phone rang.

Quickly, Yugi scooted over to where the phone hung on the wall and snatched up the receiver. "Hello? Mutou residence."

"Yugi? It's Grandpa."

"Oh, hey, Grandpa. Is everything all right? I wasn't expecting it to take you this long just to pick up a few groceries."

"No, no. Everything's fine. I just ran into an old friend at the grocery store and we got to talking. It has been years since we've seen each other, so we have a lot of catching up to do. In fact," Solomon said, "we're planning to go out for a drink, so I won't be home until later. I just wanted to call and let you know so you wouldn't worry."

"Oh. Okay." Yugi debated with himself over whether or not to tell his grandfather about their houseguest. He could hear voices in the background and decided that it would probably be a better idea to wait until Solomon got home so that Yugi could break the news to him in person. "Well, have fun!"

"I will. Oh, and since I won't be home in time for dinner, why don't you order a pizza or two?"

"Um, I kind of told Joey he could have dinner with us-"

"Make it three or four, then. My treat."

"Thanks!"

"You're welcome." Yugi could hear the laughter in his grandfather's voice. "Don't wait up."

"Okay. See you in the morning, then."

"All right. 'Bye."

"'Bye, Grandpa." Yugi hung up the phone, and absently wandered into the living room. He wondered who his grandfather might have run into. An old friend he hadn't see in years? Hmmm. So preoccupied was he by his musings that he nearly collided with Yami before snapping out of his haze. "Oops! Sorry. I was a little distracted."

"I could tell." Yami peered at him. "Is everything all right?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yes, everything is fine. That was my grandpa on the phone. Looks like it's just going to be you, me, and Joey for dinner. Grandpa's got other plans." Yugi gave him a hopeful look. "Do you like pizza?"

Yami smiled. "I love pizza."

"Great! I know what kind Joey likes, so I can go ahead and order them. Anything you particularly like or don't like on your pizza?"

"I'm not very picky." Yami winked. "Whatever you like is fine by me."

Inexplicably, Yugi felt his face flushing hotly. Jeez, what was wrong with him? It was not like the other man was flirting with him or anything! _Get a hold of yourself, Yugi_ , he told himself sternly. _Get a hold of yourself before the man thinks you're a nutcase or liable to start chasing him like one of his fanboys_. "Um. Thick crust or thin?"

"Either is fine." Seeing the look on Yugi's face, Yami quickly added, "Maybe I like thin crust a bit better than thick. Sometimes. Um."

Yugi chuckled. "Okay. How about I order two with thin crust and two with thick?"

"Sounds like a good plan to me." Yami shared a friendly, conspiratorial grin with him.

Yugi nodded and headed back to the phone. "If I order them now, they should get here about the same time Joey does."

"I hope he doesn't have any trouble getting my stuff and settling up with the hotel."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Joey can handle it." Yugi thought about this for a second. This was Joey they were talking about, after all. Honesty compelled him to add, "...Probably."

"You're not exactly boosting my confidence here, Yugi." Yami laughed. "I think Joey can handle one carry-on bag and a couple of pairs of blue jeans."

"Yeah, most likely..." Yugi was not sure what had gotten into him, but he could not resist the urge to tease Yami. "I'm sure it won't be anything like the Squid Incident last year."

"The _Squid_ Incident? Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not." Tossing Yami a cheeky wink, Yugi went to call in his order for the pizzas.

　

-o0o-

　

Despite Yugi's teasing hints to the contrary, Joey returned to the apartment over the Kame Game Shop having successfully completed his mission, with Yami's meager belongings in hand. True to Yugi's predictions, Joey's arrival coincided with the delivery of the pizzas. Over pizza and sodas, the three young men joked and talked about inconsequential things, and played some of the board games Yugi had collected over the years.

It quickly became apparent that Yami and Yugi were a bit too evenly matched at games. They inadvertently tag-teamed Joey no matter what they ended up playing. Over Monopoly, Yugi noticed that Yami was, once again, beginning to fade. He pretended to yawn. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat. I think I should call it a night."

"Yeah, me, too." For once, Joey took the hint without being bashed over the head with it. He yawned for real. "I got an early day tomorrow, as usual. Guess I oughta head on home and hit the hay."

Yami nodded, but the nod went awfully deep and ended up with his chin almost hitting his chest. Joey exchanged a glance with Yugi. "But maybe we oughta help our pal here up to his bed first."

"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea." Yugi stifled a laugh.

Between the two of them, they wrestled Yami up from his seat on the floor in front of the sofa and, staggering a bit unsteadily since Yami was practically out on his feet and was not much help, got him up the stairs and down the short hallway to the guest room.

"Jeez," Joey wheezed as they half walked, half staggered through the bedroom doorway. "For such a thin guy, he sure is heavy."

"Yeah..." Yugi wheezed right along with him. "Let's get him over to the bed before my arms fall off."

" _Oof_."

They half-dragged, half-carried him over to the bed. Joey held Yami up while Yugi turned back the covers, then the two of them settled him on the bed and Yugi tucked him in. After that, they both tiptoed from the guest bed room, with Yugi gently closing the door behind them.

 _Good night, Yami_ , Yugi thought with a faint smile lingering on his lips. _I hope your dreams are sweet_.

He had a feeling he knew what his own dreams would be about, tonight. And he thought they'd be pretty darn sweet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yami joins Yugi at the bakery; Bakheru and Yami clash again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all-new, never before published. (Though bits of it were written years ago and languishing in my 'unfinished scenes' folder for this story.)
> 
> ETA: Edited with some minor revisions.

Yami's introduction to Solomon Mutou was as unexpected as it was unforgettable. Having awakened early due to his dreams, Yami was standing beneath a punishingly hot spray of water, and working the shampoo in his hair into a frothy lather when he heard the door of the bathroom open and a voice say, "Yugi? Have you seen my--?"

Yami, his head covered with shampoo lather, stuck his head around the side of the shower curtain and found a short, gray-haired man standing in the doorway. The man stared at the stranger in his shower with startled eyes a shade darker (and far less friendly) than Yugi's.

"Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my shower?" the older man demanded.

"I'm Yami," Yami blurted, too startled by the unexpected intrusion to even register the rudeness of the interrogation. "Yugi invited me."

"Oh." The gray haired man blinked back at him, then pivoted about and marched out of the room, forgetting to close the door behind him. " _YUGI_!"

A few seconds later, Yami heard another door open and then Yugi's voice shouted, "You did _what_? Oh my God, Grandpa!" and bare footsteps pounded down the hall.

Yami was still peering tentatively around the shower curtain when a breathless, pajama-clad Yugi appeared in the doorway.

"Eep! Sorry about that, Yami." His face flushed a bright red, Yugi averted his gaze and hurriedly shut the bathroom door. Through the now closed door, he called, "That was my grandpa, before. He didn't know it was you in the shower. He thought it was me!"

"Yeah, I kind of figured that." Yami couldn't help it. He snickered. He didn't know which was funnier -- the old man's expression when he realized the person in the shower wasn't Yugi, or Yugi's mortified blush when he found out what his grandpa had done. "It's okay, Yugi. Let me just rinse my hair and I'll be right out."

"Oh, there's no hurry!" Yugi called through the closed door. There was an audible wince in his voice and Yami would bet he was still flushed as red as a ripe tomato. "Take as much time as you need!"

"I wouldn't want to hog all the hot water," Yami called back, and quickly finished rinsing off the suds. In a few minutes, he was out of the shower and toweling dry.

Since he didn't currently possess a bathrobe, Yami wrapped one of the larger towels around his body, and then hurried up the hall to the guest room where he dug through his meager wardrobe and selected a pair of jeans and light-weight pullover to wear. Dressed for the day, he went downstairs to join the Mutous for breakfast.

When Yami entered the kitchen, Yugi's grandpa was frying eggs, while Yugi puttered about the room, setting dishes on the table -- three place settings, Yami was gratified to see, as his stomach rumbled at him despite the fact that he had gorged himself on pizza the night before -- getting things from the refrigerator, and all the while chatting cheerfully to his grandfather as they worked.

Yugi looked up from setting a pitcher of juice on the kitchen table. His cheeks flushed lightly. "Good morning, Yami. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you. It's much easier to sleep when you don't have noisy parties going on in the rooms on either side of yours -- not to mention in the hallways, as well."

"Yeah, I can see how that would--"

Yugi's grandfather chose that moment to turn around and got his first real look at their house guest. He dropped the plate of fried eggs, not even seeming to notice when it shattered on the floor at his feet. "Oh, my-- You're _that_ Yami? _The_ Yami? Yugi! Why didn't you tell me we have _the_ Yami staying with us?!"

Yugi's blush went nuclear again. "Grandpa! You promised not to freak out!"

"You didn't tell me that he was _the_ Yami," the old man defended himself, still gaping at Yami. Then he turned wounded eyes on his grandson. "And you _know_ what a huge Duel Monsters fan I am. Yugi, how could you do that to your favorite grandpa?"

Yugi buried his red face in his hands. He mumbled something, but his voice was too muffled for Yami to make out the words.

"What's that, Yugi? You say you're very sorry for holding out on your poor old grandpa, whose only remaining joy in life is the meager enjoyment he manages to eke out from watching other people play his favorite card game--?"

" _Grandpa_." Yugi peeked out from between his splayed fingers. "I said I was sorry that I didn't tell you 'the' Yami was staying with us. But if you make him uncomfortable, then he isn't going to want to stay with us for very long. So..." He turned his shoulder to his grandfather and focused on Yami with visible determination. "Please excuse my grandpa, Yami. He's senile." Yugi ignored his grandpa's squawk of indignation. "Would you like some breakfast?"

Too bemused -- and, if he were honest, too _a_ mused -- to do anything else, Yami just nodded.

Breakfast, once the mess on the floor was cleaned up and fresh eggs fried, was a far more pleasant experience than Yami had anticipated. Once the formal introductions were out of the way, Grandpa -- now introduced as Solomon Mutou -- proved to be an engaging conversationalist, at least where Duel Monsters was concerned. And, while Yami would usually prefer a moratorium on talking about his job, the old man's enthusiasm was infectious. For the first time in a long time, Yami found himself enjoying talking about Duel Monsters, even discussing the upcoming tournament.

Once they had all eaten their fill of eggs, bacon, oatmeal, and toast, Solomon bid them both a good day, accepted Yugi's hug, and then headed down the short flight of stairs to open the game shop. Without waiting to be asked, and refusing to accept Yugi's demural, Yami cleared the table and set to washing the dishes. After a moment, a flustered Yugi joined him and began to rinse and dry the dishes.

Eventually, Yugi set aside the cotton towel he'd been using to dry the clean dishes. "Um. I kind of have to go somewhere now, and I was wondering if you would like to come with me." Clearly nervous, he twisted his fingers and peeked hopefully at Yami through his tumbled bangs.

Momentarily sidetracked by the cute, Yami finally managed to say, "Oh? Where are you going?"

"Have you seen the Sweet Temptations bakery, a couple of blocks over?"

"Yes. I was in there yesterday. I bought a cupcake," Yami said, watching Yugi and failing to mention that he had not actually gotten around to _eating_ said cupcake. "Do you work there?"

"Kind of. Well, just until Ryou's mom and sister are well enough to come back to work. See, there was this really strange car accident involving soccer balls and the Domino Bay Bridge, and...." Pausing, Yugi shook his head. "But that's not important right now. The thing is, I promised to help Ryou until they can return to work, because his dad's in Egypt, on assignment for the Domino Museum, and they can't afford to hire anyone else, so I need to get down there and help out with the baking.

"I'm usually there waaaay earlier than this but Grandpa thinks I've been working too hard, and Ryou agreed with him when Grandpa called him and told him I needed to sleep later today. Which worked out okay, because this way you didn't end up stuck here alone with Grandpa, because I can just imagine how _that_ would have turned out and we really don't want to go there, because... Wow." Yugi sucked in a breath and then blushed. "I'm babbling again, aren't I?"

"A little." Yami smirked. He found Yugi's tendency to babble oddly endearing. "So you need to go in to the bakery and help out this Ryou person?"

"Right. Um. And I thought maybe you'd like to come with me? Unless you already have plans for the day, because that would totally be okay, too, and you don't have to feel obligated to tag along with me just because--"

Yami gently tapped the tip of his index finger to Yugi's lips, silencing Yugi, who stared at Yami with large violet eyes made even bigger by surprise. "Sounds like fun. Thanks for inviting me."

Yugi beamed, which somehow warmed Yami down to his toes. He found himself returning the smile with interest and, strangely, looking forward to spending the morning at the bakery with his new friend (and completely forgetting the promise he'd made to Bakheru to stay away).

　

o0o

　

They arrived at the bakery to find Ryou up to his elbows in bread dough. After a cheery greeting, he set them to preparing cookie dough while he continued with his kneading. Yugi showed Yami the recipes they were using for the day's cookies, several of which were simply variations of one recipe and used the same dough as a base. Once they had mixed a large batch of the basic dough, they divided it into bowls and added the extra ingredients that would make each batch into a different flavor of cookie. Before long they had several huge cookie sheets ready for the ovens.

Meanwhile, Ryou had set the bread aside to rise and was pulling muffin tins from one of the ovens. He set the muffins onto cooling racks and turned to smile at Yami, who sported a smear of cookie dough on one eyebrow and a dusting of flour down the front of his apron.

"It's nice of you to help out," Ryou said, switching on one of the stand-mixers. Butter and sugar went into the mixing bowl to be creamed.

"No problem." Yami fiddled with the strings of his apron. "Yugi said this is your family's bakery?"

"Oh, yes. Been in the family for several generations now." Ryou added vanilla to the pale yellow mixture in his bowl. "Could you hand me the cake flour?"

Glancing around, Yami found the Swan's Down and handed it over. "What are you making?"

After carefully measuring the flour, Ryou whisked it with the rest of the dry ingredients. Using a scoop, he added the dry mixture slowly to his mixer's bowl, alternating with eggs that he cracked individually into a small container to make certain they were good. "I'm trying out a new cupcake recipe today. Something simple, but fresh. Vanilla with a lemon curd filling and Meyer lemon buttercream frosting."

"Sounds delicious."

"I thought so, too." Ryou kept a close eye on the mixer, watching as the whisk blended the ingredients into a smooth batter. He needed to make sure the batter was properly airated but not overmixed. "Hopefully my customers will agree."

"I'm sure they will, Ryou," Yugi piped up from where he was checking on the first batch of cookies. "You haven't had a flop yet."

"Oh, I don't know. Those corico cookies didn't do as well as I'd hoped."

"I think that was because Bakheru kept scaring off the would-be buyers, not because the cookies weren't any good."

One of Yami's eyebrows rose. "Does he do that often?"

"Scare off my customers?" Ryou sighed. "Only too often."

"He's jealous," Yugi said, grinning. "He's head over heels for Ryou."

"He barely knows me!" Ryou protested. The cake batter was done, so he began scooping it into the paper-lined wells of a cupcake tin. "I mean... He's a bit overwhelming, sometimes."

"I guess he does come on kind of strong. But he really likes you."

Yami was observing their byplay with interest. "Do you like him?"

"I don't know." Ryou handed the filled cupcake tin to Yugi, who took it over to one of the ovens and slid it inside. "I might. But I really don't know that much about him."

"Oh?" There was something a bit too casual about the way Yami said that. "How long have you known him?"

"Not long." Ryou heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I don't even know where he's from."

"Egypt."

Both Yugi and Ryou turned to gape at him. Yugi said, "How do you know that?"

"I met him when I was in here before. He was having breakfast with Joey and his friend."

Yugi shook his head. "And he just _told_ you where he was from? Just like that? Because he's been pretty cagey about it with us, and he really is crazy about Ryou, but he hardly ever talks about his past."

"Actually, we recognized one another," Yami said. "We're from the same village."

"Wow, talk about a coincidence..." Yugi paused to take a peek at the first batch of cookies. The edges were golden brown and the heavenly aroma of melting chocolate filled the air. He smiled as he pulled the tray from the oven and headed over to the cooling racks. "Yami, can you grab the next tray and put it in the oven for me?"

"Of course."

Yugi returned from his task with two of the cookies and handed one to Yami. He gave the other to Ryou, who immediately took a bite.

" _Mmm_. Nothing like a chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven," Ryou said around his bite of cookie, even as he fanned his hand in front of his mouth in a _too hot_! gesture.

Yami broke his cookie in two, melted chocolate oozing between the halves, and handed one half to Yugi before nibbling on the one he'd kept for himself. "Delicious."

"It's my grandmother's recipe," Ryou said proudly, finishing his cookie and licking a stray bit of chocolate from his lips. "In fact, a lot of our recipes were handed down in the family."

"That's great." Yami smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "With so many tried and true recipes, it's no wonder your bakery is so popular."

"What about your family?" Yugi asked suddenly. He'd realized how little he actually knew about Yami beyond what he'd read in magazines. "You don't talk about them much in the interviews I've seen."

"Oh, well..." Yami looked uncomfortable for a second, but the expression was quickly covered by a mask of indifference. "There's not much to talk about. They all live in Egypt, so I don't see them often."

Now Ryou was watching him, too. "Do you have a large family?"

"I suppose I do, if you count the extended family -- cousins and so forth." Idly, Yami picked at a bit of dough that had stuck to his food-prep gloves. He peeled off the gloves and tossed them into the trash bin. "I have four brothers and a sister."

To an only child like Yugi, that many siblings sounded overwhelming. Adding cousins -- and the aunts and uncles that went along with them -- to the mix just seemed like overkill. "Wow, you really do have a big family."

Seeing the curious look that Yami sent his way, Yugi added, "It's just me and my mom and grandpa. So, I can't even imagine--"

Ryou was nodding. "I just have the one sister, though my extended family is a bit larger than Yugi's. Unfortunately, they're all in England, so I rarely get to see them." He bustled over to the ovens and checked on all their contents. "That's why there's no one to help out while the rest of my immediate family is recovering from the accident. If it weren't for Yugi, I don't know what I would do."

Face flaming at the unexpected praise, Yugi shook his head. "You know I'm always glad to help, Ryou."

"You're a good friend, Yugi." Yami smiled at him, and this time it felt genuine. It lost a bit of its warmth when he turned the smile on Ryou, though it looked no less sincere. "And I'd be happy to lend a hand while I'm here."

"Oh! That would be wonderful," Ryou said, turning around with his hands full of baking sheet. "But won't you have to concentrate on your tournament?"

"For part of the time, yes. But I do have some free time and--" Yami sighed, his brow furrowing. "Frankly, you'd be doing me a favor. I need somewhere my fans wouldn't expect to find me, and I don't think anyone will be looking for me in a bakery kitchen."

"In that case, I'm happy to have you!"

Yugi, happy in the knowledge that not only would his friend have more help in the bakery but that he would get to spend more time with Yami, beamed at them both.

　

o0o

　

The rest of the morning passed in a busy haze of baking, cleaning up, and baking some more. By lunchtime, Yami was tired but in a surprisingly good mood. Spending all morning in the hectic rush of the kitchen had worked up an appetite, and he gladly accepted Ryou's invitation to have lunch at the bakery. They sat in the breakroom off the kitchen and ate a delicious meal of thick, hearty sandwiches made with fresh baked bread.

Afterward, knowing he needed to make another attempt at finding lodgings (and check yet again with the airline about his wayward luggage), Yami said good-bye to Ryou and Yugi and headed out the back so he could avoid the crowd out front. Fortunately, there was a door at the rear of the bakery that opened into the alley. He could hear the traffic and noise from the busy street but the alley itself was quiet, mostly clean, and deserted. Yami tucked his hair into the knit hat he'd borrowed from Yugi, slipped on his sunglasses, and strode away from the busy street at the head of the alley, toward the quieter street at the back.

He had barely turned the corner when someone grabbed his arm and hauled him to a stop, shoving him against the wall of the building next to him. Startled, Yami jerked his head around to find Bakheru crowding him, fingers digging into his arm where Bakheru still gripped it, and glowering at him.

"What the hell, Bakheru?!"

Bakheru snarled. "I warned you to stay away from Ryou."

Yami couldn't help it. He laughed.

"I'm so glad I amuse you, O exalted one." Bakheru's expression twisted into something even darker than before. "You think it's amusing to toy with one so lowly and beneath you. You think you can steal Ryou away from me and that I will do nothing but sit idly by and watch like a good _fellahin_ should in the presence of one so far above me. Don’t even _try_ to deny it!"

"Bakheru, you're not... You were a _priest_ \--" Yami began. Bakheru cut him off with a growl.

"I was born a _fellahin_! When I was orphaned, the village decided I should go to the temple to work. I became a Pure One because it was that or run off to starve in the desert. My future was decided for me. I never had a choice."

Yami knew how that felt. "Nor did I--"

"Fah! As if anyone would turn down the role of a prince!"

"You forget, Bakheru, that I ran away from my assigned role, as well." Yami's expression was hard. "I was given no more choice than you were. I don't want to lead the Tombkeepers! I didn't want to have the Legacy carved into my back when I was fourteen, either, but no one asked for my opinion. It was simply done to me, as it has always been done."

"Bah." Bakheru spat, the spittle barely missing Yami's foot. "You're nothing but a spoiled prince who doesn't want to accept his responsibilities. I should go find your brothers and tell them exactly where you're hiding. At least that would keep you away from my Ryou!"

"I have no romantic interest in _Ryou_!" Yami shouted, feeling exasperated by the other's obtuseness. "He is nothing more to me than a potential friend! If I'm interested in anyone, it's Yu--"

Yami's mouth snapped shut. Bakheru did not need to know about Yami's growing interest in Yugi Mutou. No one needed to know about that, least of all Yugi himself, at least until Yami was more certain about exactly what it was that he was feeling. And what, if anything, he was going to do about it.

Bakheru's eyes glistened with angry derisiion. "What is this? Are you planning to create a harem for yourself, here in Domino?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Yami thought the other man's reaction was out of proportion, but had to admit that Bakheru's anger wasn't entirely unjustified. "Look, I'm sorry that I broke my promise to you. I honestly didn't realize that the friend Yugi was talking about helping was Ryou until we got here."

Bakheru scoffed. "I guess I know how much your word means, don't I? Nothing, same as always with your kind."

"That isnt' true--"

"Isn't it? I remember all the pretty words your father would give to the common people, the ones who do the real work so he and other like him can live like lords. Pretty words he didn't hesitate to ignore if it suited him." Bakheru leaned in close again. "You're just like him, nothing but a _liar_."

Yami's mouth worked, but no sound emerged through the outrage tightening his throat. Finally, he managed, "How _dare_ you?"

"Oh, I dare, _my lord_...." Bakheru sneered, then darted away, his mocking laughter echoing back along the alley to Yami's ears. "And I will dare a great deal more, if you continue to press me."

　

-o0o-

　

"So, there I was, just standin' there on the street corner in my ugly, yellow, hot as hell chicken suit, mindin' my own beeswax, when out of nowhere this..." Joey trailed off as he noticed Bakheru come storming out of the alley behind Sweet Temptations.

"Hey, Bakheru--" Joey began, only to have the blond ignore him as he shoved past. Only Tristan's quick reflexes saved Joey from stumbling.

Joey blinked at Tristan, who blinked back at him. "Jeez, man, watch where you're goin'! Ya almost ran me over."

Bakheru flipped them off without looking back.

"Dude. _Somebody's_ in a nasty mood today."

"No shit. I wonder who peed in _his_ corn flakes?"

They looked back around just in time to dodge out of the way as Yami stalked out of the same alley. Joey and Tristan exchanged glances.

"Well, that answers the 'who'," Tristan said sagely. "Now we just gotta find out the 'what'."

The two of them flanked Yami, falling into step along side him as he headed in the opposite direction to the one Bakheru had taken. The friends exchanged another look over the distracted duelist's head.

Then Joey, easily keeping pace with Yami, spoke up. "So, Yams... What'd you do to get Bakheru so riled up, anyway?"

　

-o0o-

　

"So, Yams... What'd you do to get Bakheru so riled up, anyway?"

"Nothing!" That was still a sore point with Yami. He had only been helping Ryou out -- and enjoying spending some time with Yugi. Bakheru had not even entered into the decision making process, even if Yami did feel bad about forgetting his agreement to stay out of the bakery. It wasn't as if he was interested in Ryou anyway; Bakheru had no right to attack him. "I just helped Yugi and Ryou out in the kitchen at the bakery this morning."

Once again, speaking looks were exchanged over his head. This time, he noticed. Exasperated, he snapped, "What?"

"Ryou banned Bakheru from ever setting foot in his kitchen again after the Chinois Incident," Joey explained, watching the sidewalk as they strode along three abreast. "Which was when we all learned that airborne flour is highly combustible. And explosive."

"Yep. It involved not only the fire department, but three plumbers, two off duty policemen -- including yours truly -- and one extremely confused partridge in a pear tree."

"It was a cartridge," Joey corrected him, tipping his nose into the air and taking on the demeanor of a lecturer. "Not a partridge. And it was Ryou's party printer, the one he prints out the special orders on, not a pear tree."

"It also required a three minute presentation on just what the heck a 'chinois' is, so Joey'd shut up about it," Tristan added, sticking his tongue out at his friend's snooty expression. In an aside to Yami, he added, "It's a fancy name for a special kind of strainer, by the way."

Joey punched him in the bicep, hard enough to make Tristan yelp and clutch at his wounded arm.

Yami stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. The other two strolled on for a few paces before they each realized they had lost him and turned back. Yami stared at them. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope." Tristan grinned. "All happened in the same day, too. That was the first -- and last -- time Ryou let Bakheru in the kitchen. The guy's been pining ever since."

"Took poor Ryou's family a month to clean up the mess and re-open the bakery. Ryou's dad was livid. Hence the reason they can't afford not to keep the place open right now, even with most of the fam' outta commission. And why Bakheru's not allowed within spitting distance of the kitchen on pain of... pain, I guess." Suddenly thoughtful, Joey glanced at Tristan. "I can't really see Ryou killing anyone, can you?"

" _Noooo_.... But he might make an exception for Bakheru if he tries baking anything in there again. I know his dad would, if he were around to see it."

"Good point."

"Yeah. Of course, I hope Ryou doesn't. 'Cause it'd really suck to have to arrest one of my best buds for homicide, no matter how justifiable..."

"It's always gotta be about _you_ , doesn't it?" Joey poked him in the ribs. "Man, you're so selfish."

"Oh, yeah? Well, I'm pretty generous with the ass kickings. Want a free sample?"

That was all it took, and the two of them were wrestling each other like a couple of testosterone charged adolescents. Of course, they were only a few years past adolescence, so it was not too terribly surprising. Yami rolled his eyes, dodged around them, and kept walking, not waiting to see if the two of them would knock off their horseplay and follow him. His mind drifted back to his argument with Bakheru.

Misunderstanding or not, what might the former priest do to get his revenge? Would he risk his own freedom in an attempt to curtail Yami's? With two of Yami's siblings in Domino City, the threat was one Yami felt he had to take seriously. But who could he trust to help him? His relationship with Seto Kaiba was mercurial at best...

Maybe, Yami thought in a flash of sudden inspiration, he should go see _Stella_ Kaiba.

　

　

　


End file.
